#imaginary girls being in ready supply

[prokopetz]

I mean, treating yaoi as the opposite of yuri just doesn't make sense mathematically: boys are not the inverse of girls. The actual opposite of yuri would somehow have to involve fewer than zero girls, and that's not an easy thing to characterise.

#media #tropes #memes #yuri #math #complex yuri on the other hand is very easily characterised #imaginary girls being in ready supply

[spiderwcd]

sleep tight | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x reader

summary: they suggested to sleep over at the haunted manor, expect this time something dangerous happens.

warnings: sleep walking, the boys being almost hurt, guilt, possession, mentions of ghosts/demons, mentions of death/gore

w.c: 4.2k

a/n: the manor that they will stay in will be made up, so none of the "hauntings" are real and dont exist.

images from pinterest !

Y/n tapped her foot, anxious. she bit her nails as they approached the large mansion, it seemed to have a dark aura already. 

"You good?" Colby asked, worried. she pulled away from her anxiety ridden movements, facing him now to see his worried expression.

"Yeah, just nervous," she chuckled dryly. "This place has a dark past." She added. 

Colby nodded, understanding. This was only her second time joining them in their explorations of the paranormal. Last time, it was a bit hard on her. Colby offered to let her stay in their hotel while they went through it without her, but she insisted. 

She shifted her gaze from Colby's sympathetic look over to the dark manor. It was a huge mansion, painted bright colors that were peeling off. It was a stark contrast to the aura that lingered. 

"Alright guys, you ready?" Sam smiled over to the two, misreading the vibe. 

"Yeah." Y/n let out a deep breath as she exited the car, eyes still on the manor. She helped the boys take out their equipment as they tweaked with the settings on the camera. 

"Hello everybody!" Sam exclaimed into the camera, Colby standing next to him. "I'm here with Colby and his girlfriend, y/n." He pointed the camera towards her direction, carrying certain items as she waved towards them, putting a smile on her face. 

"Today, we're gonna explore the Demon's Dream Manor," Colby explained into the camera, in an expressive tone. "It is said that both ghosts and demons lurk here and possess you in your sleep." He added. 

Y/n gulped hearing it out loud, she had read about it but something about it being physically said made her hair stand up and her mouth go dry. 

She walked towards the boys as they finished their intro, still holding onto some equipment. she cautiously entered the mansion, trailing behind the two boys. 

As they entered the foyer, she noticed the dark decor. it was sorta cheesy in her opinion, with the antique mirrors and candlesticks everywhere. 

"Okay, apparently it's a tourist spot," Sam began, obviously. "But we're gonna be the first people to actually stay the night, it's like forbidden for anyone to stay here after hours, even the staff," He added. 

Oh great, someones definitely gonna get thrown around here, she thought to herself. 

"How did you even convince them to let us do this?" She asked as she placed down the random supplies onto the old dining table. 

"Oh, isn't it obvious, they just took one look at me and they had to have me stay here." Sam joked as he threw back his imaginary hair. 

She giggled a bit at his response, not even wanting to know. Her eyes wandered around the tall ceilings, wondering what lies ahead of them. 

"There's this story about this place, that there was a family of 7 that lived here, 3 girls and 2 boys," Colby explained into the camera. "the girls had a sleepover, in which they essentially opened a portal with an ouija board." He clasped his hands together as the information settled. 

"if Corey was here, he'd shit himself." Y/n joked, causing the guys to chuckle. 

"Yeah so demons!" Sam chuckled, fake nervousness coated over it. "But that's not all." He quickly stated. 

"Oh yeah, there's a ghost here," Colby interrupted. "After the portal was opened, one of the girls unfortunately passed away. She was thrown or pushed out of one of the windows causing her to die." He sadly continued. 

"That poor baby," Y/n frowned, feeling remorse for the girl. The boys nodded, feeling the same empathy towards the death of the girl. 

"Alright, our tour guide is here, her name is Penny, and she's gonna explain some of the stories and what happened in this house." Colby said as he looked over to the black haired woman. 

"Well this place certainly has its history," Penny began. "Uh, well this house was built in the 1920's, it's been passed down the Merridale family for generations up until the 70's where the unfortunate events happened." She explained. 

"Was it the family that experienced the torment of certain entities?" Sam asked, pointing the camera towards her. 

"Yes, there were 5 children in total, Edith being the oldest, then Florence, Howard, Clarence, and lastly Dorthy." Penny explained. "The parents were Authur and Beatrice Merridale." She added on. 

"Who was the girl that passed away?" Y/n asked, curious. 

"It was the youngest daughter, Dorthy," Penny answered. "It was really sad considering she was the one that was mostly scared and didn't even want to participate in the ouija board." 

Y/n felt a pang of sadness hit her, feeling so sorry for the little girl. 

"That's awful," Y/n gasped, her face furrowing with sadness. Colby placed a hand onto her back, trying to comfort her a bit. 

"Yeah, it's unfortunate but I'm also a medium, and I have communicated with her before, she's a kind spirit and she's known to ward off the evil around people. Especially women." She continued, adding comfort to the situation. 

Y/n smiled, feeling comfort at the idea that this place isn't totally overrun by evil and there's some sort of light. 

"I really hope she's gonna be protecting us tonight," Colby sighed, feeling some sort of uneasy feeling linger. 

"Usually she'll just follow us and protect us, you can just tell her it's okay to follow you and watch, she doesn't do any harm," Penny offered. "I can just feel her already, she really likes you y/n." She pointed out.

Y/n's eyes widened a bit, looking around herself. "It's okay to follow us around the house Dorothy, we won't hurt you." y/n said into the open, hoping she'd hear her. 

The boys did the same, before they began touring the house. They heard the occasional taps and knocks as they explored the house. They soon entered what seemed like the girls room. 

"This is where the most activity happens,'' Penny presented. "This was the girls room, and this was the window where Dorothy was pushed out of." She pointed out towards the large nook like area that overlooked the road. 

"Wow, that's really high up," Colby gasped slightly as he looked down from the window. "I can't imagine how much pain she felt." He sighed out. 

"She died on impact," Penny elaborated. "So the good part was she didn't suffer." She included. 

"I'm so sorry, Dorothy, that this happened to you." Y/n whispered as she looked around the room, examining the surroundings. Then she felt a sort of tap on her shoulder, she turned around to face the boys. 

"You guys didn't touch me, did you?" she asked 

"No, why did you feel someone touch you?" sam asked

"Y-Yeah it was like a tap on my shoulder to get me to turn around." she described. 

"Someone's gonna have to stay here and sleep in this room..." Sam said before promptly touching his nose. Colby quickly reacted and mirrored his actions, leaving you to be last. 

The boys silently exclaimed as you groaned. "Of course it has to be me." She sighed. 

"Well it is a girl's room so you'll fit right in." Sam chuckled, before following Penny as they exited the bedroom. 

Colby lingered behind along with y/n. "You know you don't have to do it, I can take your place in here or even sleep with you in the room." He offered. 

"No it's okay, plus we both know that's not a good idea." Y/n joked as she knew how touchy he was. 

"Not where my mind was going, but now I really want to sleep in the same room with you." Colby smirked a bit, holding onto her hand as they explored the rest of the house. 

"This is the master bedroom, where the parents slept,'' Penny pointed out into the large bedroom, if it wasn't for the dark history this home would've been pretty gorgeous. "At some point, all of the family slept in this bedroom, they were scared of what lived in this home. I don't know if you guys mentioned it before, but there was an incident in this room as well." She continued. 

"Possession and sleep walking?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow. 

"Yes, but there was a part of the story that most people leave out," Penny pointed out. "When the family was all asleep in this room, one of the girls kept having nightmares and one night she began sleep walking, mumbling random words. She actually grabbed one of the kitchen knives and tried attacking her family." He added. 

Everyone gasped a bit, shocked about how this wasn't told before. 

"Wait, was everyone okay?" Colby asked, worry written on his face. 

"Yes, but she did manage to stab her mother in her right shoulder, but luckily, everyone woke up to her mother screaming and pulled her out of that trance." Penny answered, clasping her hands together. 

If everyone didn't feel scared before, they surely did now. The air was tense and felt suffocating, full of uneasiness. y/n scooted towards Colby, now holding his hand for security. Colby tightened his grip on her hand, a sign for protection. They suddenly heard footsteps behind them, causing her to jump closer to Colby's body. He turned around, his body shielding y/n. 

"You hear that?" Colby asked, looking around before looking over to sam. "Sounded like footsteps. 

"Yeah I heard that too," Sam replied as he also looked around, pointing his camera towards the darkness. 

"Usually it's just entities following us around," Penny warned. "If you are not Dorothy, you may not follow us or attach to any of us, you don't have our permission to touch us, follow us, or attach to us." She shouted behind us. 

Everyone stayed quiet before they continued the tour. Before we knew it, Penny had to go, leaving us alone in the large manor. The group sat in the dining area, considering what to do. 

"Did you bring any toys?" Y/n asked. "Maybe we can leave one for dorothy." She offered. 

Colby smiled at her sweetness, finding her kindness refreshing in the mansion. "Yeah, I think we bought a doll for her." Colby said as he dug into his bag, picking out a little doll. "That is, if you're not talking about other toys?" he smirked, jokingly wiggling his brows 

"Shut up," she blushed at his dirty comment. "But thank you, hopefully she'll love it." She smiled, examining the toy doll. 

"Are you still going to sleep in that room?" Sam asked as he pointed the camera towards her. 

"Yeah, I'm not backing down, plus I have Dorothy for protection," y/n replied with a sigh, she was terrified but she knew that colby would be a couple doors down in the master bedroom. "Plus Colby will fight the spirits for me, isn't that right?" She inquired. 

"Oh yeah, I'll use my big strong muscles to ward them off you," Colby joked as he flexed his muscles. "But I'll probably be thrown out the window if I even try, so I can't help out there." He chuckled. 

She gave Colby a kiss on his lips, while Sam pretended to gag towards the camera. 

"Alright, enough you too, you're gonna make me and Dorothy sick," Sam teased. "Anyway, what are we gonna start with first?" he asked. 

"I think we should do the alice box," Colby offered. "We could do the estes method after." he continued. 

Sam nodded, "alright lets start up the alice box." he began as he dug through the bag, grabbing the small box. it turned on with a loud crackle, before different frequencies blasted through. 

"Is there anyone here willing to speak to us here?" Sam asked, waiting for a response. 

"...here..."

"Here, can you tell us who we were speaking to?" Colby inquired, it was silent for a moment before it spoke again.

"...not..." "...man..." 

Shivers ran down her spine hearing the words. 

"Can you tell us your name?" Y/n requested, but it didn't say anything.

"If it's not human, it doesn't want to give us its name," y/n sighed. "Their names are what gives you power over them." She continued. The guys nodded a bit, agreeing with her statement. 

"Is it true that there is a portal in this house?" Colby questioned. 

"...yeah..."

"Is there a spirit with the name of Dorothy in this home too?" Y/n inquired as she leaned closer in her seat, awaiting the answer. 

"...lost..." It gurgled over other words, too. Y/n furrowed her brow confused. 

"Lost? I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean." Sam wondered, thinking about the words while the alice box spewed more confusing words. 

"Did you possess one of the daughters here to kill her family?" Colby asked into the air. 

"...shhh..." "...sleep..." "...scream..." 

They looked at each other, mouths open with shock. 

"I mean Penny did say that she was possessed in her sleep," y/n let out, sort of covering her mouth in shock. "And the family woke up to their mom screaming." She clarified. They agreed with her statement before returning back to the alice box. 

"What do you think about us being here? We're the first people in decades to sleep in this home." Sam expressed. 

"...play..." "...touch..." "...mmmh..." "...her..." 

It ran shivers down her spine and traveled all around her body. "What the hell." She muttered out, gripping onto Colby's arms. 

"No, you can not touch her, she's not yours," Colby angrily growled, holding her close to him. "You're not allowed to touch any of us, especially her." 

She felt herself wanting to shake a bit hearing those words, while the alice box spewed out more words. Sam quickly turned it off, and put it away. 

"What the actual fuck dude." Sam faced Colby with a shocked expression planted on his face. 

"Yeah, clearly something here feeds off women's energy." Colby replied, trying to comfort y/n. 

"Are you okay, y/n?" Sam asked, camera still rolling. 

"Y-Yeah, im fine just a bit shocked," she answered as she released her grip. "Let's just do the Estes method, let me do it." She added.

"No way," Colby scoffed. "You're being targeted, y/n." Colby explained.

She looked up into his eyes, seeing worry in his stern look. "Colby, it's okay, I can do it." She assured him. "You'll be right next to me, pulling me out if anything." 

Colby's eyes softened a bit, knowing there's no way he's gonna convince her not to do it. "Okay, but if it goes south even for a moment, I'll pull you out." He sighed. 

She smiled, squeezing his hand to assure him. she grabbed the headphones and blindfold, putting them on. Sam turned on the machine and the familiar static blared through. 

Y/n couldn't hear them as they began asking questions. 

"How did you get here?" Sam asked, waiting for an answer from y/n. 

“Board." She repeated. "Invited us." 

"Like the ouija board." Colby looked up at Sam. Sam nodded, agreeing.

"Can you tell me how many of you are here?" Colby questioned. 

"You." She said, "Ten." She continued. 

"Not alone." 

"Well, that's comforting." Sam scoffed, jokingly.

"Howard." She shouted out. Colby looked over to Sam, both thinking the same thing.

"That's one of the sons' names." Colby finally said. 

"Pretty." Y/n answered. "Scared." She finally said. 

"Like one of us is scared or something," Sam pondered. 

"Night." Y/n continued. "Party." 

The two wondered what that meant, "like a sleepover." Colby finally figured it out, snapping his fingers and pointing up to sam. 

"Oh my god, you're right!,'' Sam gasped. "The slumber party that the girls were having." 

"Terror. Dorothy." She repeated. Y/n felt herself begin to shake as an uneasy feeling crawled on her back. "Scream." She continued 

"What the hell?" Sam whispered, unsure what's happening. 

The two guys suddenly heard a loud thud upstairs. they looked up, confused where it could come from. "sounded like it was in one of the bedrooms." Sam admitted. 

"Laugh, I just heard a, like, loud guttural laugh." Y/n pointed to her headphones. "Precious. Soul." 

"Okay I think we need to pull her out," Colby quickly continued, tapping on y/n's thigh to snap her out. "Y/n, come on." 

She tore off the headphones at the last second as she heard some sort of loud scream, "woah, just as you were pulling me out, I heard this loud ass scream." Y/n pulled the blindfold off her eyes, visibly shaken. 

"It's okay, it's over now." Colby comforted her as he pulled her up, embracing her into his arms. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Things had finally settled, they went out to go get something to eat. They talked about theories, noting things and connecting points, and how they felt being in the house. 

When they returned, they noticed the house became colder. They slightly shivered at the cool air nipping at their skin.

"Here." Colby said as he handed her a hoodie. She smiled up at Colby, thanking him for it. 

"Aren't you gonna be cold, baby?" She asked, worried about him. 

"I'll be okay, I'll just borrow one from sam." Colby smiled at her concern. "Or i'll just tear it off his body." He joked, causing Sam to spin around and mutter what. 

They laughed at his reaction, feeling the mood lighten up slightly. she put on the hoodie, inhaling his scent that was mixed with cologne. it comforted her, making her feel comfortable. 

"Alright guys, it's time to go to our respected rooms,'' Sam said as they began to part ways. "To sleep overnight at the demon's dream manor." He turned the camera to face Sam and Colby, with an ominous stare. 

"Can't believe you two are gonna be in the same room," Y/n sighed. "Hands off my boyfriend, Golbach." She continued with a stern look, jokily. 

"Hey, I can't promise anything, sugar," Colby replied teasingly, stepping closer to sam. "What if I get cold?" He pouted his lip and pretended to shiver as he huddled towards Sam. 

Sam and y/n laughed at his reaction, they joked for a moment more before they actually had to go to sleep. She turned on her camera, ready to give a moment of her thoughts. 

"To be honest, I'm really scared," she admitted into the lens. "I have this really bad feeling that something is gonna happen, but I'm sure that Dorothy, wherever she is, is gonna protect us." She sighed out. 

"I wonder what the guys are doing," y/n wondered. "probably rubbing their feet together and cuddling." She chuckled. She stayed silent for a moment as she heard random footsteps outside her door. 

"I just heard footsteps, I hope the camera caught that, or even the guys heard that." Y/n looked over the camera and at the door, not seeing anything. 

It was silent besides a few crickets outside and the humming of a radiator, which was odd because it was freezing. "Well guys, wish me luck, i'm gonna put out this little doll Colby gave me and rest my lil head and pray that nothing happens." She finally said before placing the doll on a wooden chair and positioning the camera to face her and her surroundings. 

As the night progressed, slowly getting closer to the 3 o'clock hour. Y/n couldn't help but feel restless. Her body was sleeping, but her mind wasn't. She felt stuck in some sort of loop, a nightmare. 

She found herself in a thick fog, on what seemed to be a dirt road. She frantically looked around as she heard a faint whisper, what seemed to be coming from all different directions. 

She began to run, but the whispers didn't seem to go away. She tried to cover her ears as she sprinted through the mist. Then she saw a building approaching, she felt as if it was a beacon for hope. 

as she neared towards it, her heart began to sink. It was the mansion. But this time, it was much darker than she remembered. The manor seemed to have a shadow casted around it, she began to panic as she felt a hard pressure on her chest. 

Then she saw a dark shadow, a figure raced past from the woods behind the house. She felt worry and fear begin to settle in her chest, she didn't want to go towards it. But her body seemed to be pulled as she slowly made her way behind the house. She braced herself for what was to come, but nothing. 

She felt some sort of relief wash over her before she spun around, seeing it. It was dark and tall, it had piercing white eyes with red pupils. It towered over her as it grinned down at her, with its black and scrawny, long fingers began to grip her hands. It pulled her close to its body. She screamed as she began to sob, trying to fight back and call out for colby. 

"Y/n!" Colby shouted out, "wake up!" He shook her awake. 

She opened her eyes to her surroundings, looking around frantically as tears stained her face. Y/n began shaking and trying to figure out what happened. Then she noticed Colby's cut hand and the knife sitting across the room. 

"W-what happened?!" She panted as she didn't want to think of the worst. Sam was behind Colby, looking at her with fear plastered in his eyes. 

"Y-you just came in here," Colby began. "You opened the door, thank god Sam was still awake, he thought you didn't want to sleep in the room anymore and went to sleep with me. But..." He stopped himself, contemplating whether to say it.

"What did I do?" Y/n whimpered, feeling guilt build up. 

"Sam saw you have a knife, we don't even know where you got it from, cause they removed all the knives from the house." Colby continued. "He pushed you off of me as you were about to... stab me." He finally admitted. 

She began to sob into her hands, "D-Did I do that? Did I h-hurt you" she asked him, her voice shaking. 

"Y-Yeah, you got back up, and I was awake by then. I thought I could get you to wake up and unarm you,"Colby sighed. "you just started slinging that thing around, and I put my hand up and you cut me a bit, but I’m okay, y/n I swear. It's just a cut.” He reasoned 

"Oh god, Colby, I'm so sorry," she cried out as Colby pulled her in. "I'm so sorry, I-i didn't mean to hurt y-you." Y/n muttered into his shirt. 

He tried to comfort her the best he could, she cried for what felt like hours. Colby looked up to Sam, who still had a worried expression on his face. 

"Okay, we have to get out of here," Sam suddenly broke the air. "Y/n, just stay in the car and we'll pack everything." He continued, still afraid of her. 

She didn't say anything as Colby guided her out of the house. He opened the car and she sat in it, looking up at the mansion again. She felt a shiver run down her spine, causing her hair on her body to stand up. 

As the guys packed up everything, Sam couldn't help himself and just asked. "Do you think that thing is attached to her now?'' He gulped a bit. 

"I hope not," Colby answered with sadness in his voice. "Whatever happened, fucked her up, we'll have to sage before we leave." he continued as he grabbed the bag. Sam nodded, agreeing with him. 

"Don't take this the wrong way man," Sam began. "But, do you think we can even release the footage? I got it all on camera." He admitted. 

"Hell no," Colby frowned. "I don't want the world thinking she's a monster, she didn't mean to do it, that fucking thing possessed her and controlled her." he spat angrily. 

Sam nodded, agreeing with him. "Yeah, just gonna have to tell the fans that we lost the footage or something." He sighed as he put away the last of the equipment. 

as they exited the house, they said their usual thing. "You cannot follow any of us, including y/n. you cannot follow us home." They announced behind them, before they closed the door. 

They began walking down to the car, seeing the sun begin to rise. Y/n just stared ahead, no emotion on her face. Her mind was racing from thought to thought. She didn't even flinch when they entered the car, Sam looked over to her then back to Colby. He had a worried expression written on his face. 

As they were pulling away from the property, she couldn't help but look back. She saw a dark figure move out of the view in the window, making her freeze for a moment before returning to the emotionless stare. 

As they drove, silence hung in the air. They didn't play music, joke around, or talk about anything like they usually did. Just silence. She didn't want to talk about it, still traumatized from her experience. Y/n couldn't shake that cold feeling on her back, images of her nightmare flashing in her mind. 

Something was left with her, but it wasn't an attachment. But it was rather the guilt and trauma she would carry with her for a lifetime. 

#sam and colby #colby brock #xplr #sam golbach #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut

[miracles-and-butterflies]

How was Luisa and Julieta's visit? Did Luisa confront someone or was it pretty calm?

Pretty calm.

~~~~~~

Mirabel lasts about twenty minutes.

Her head is still spinning, she’s in agony and her body is ready to collapse. She tries closing her eyes, burying her head into the cushion and taking some calming deep breaths. But it does nothing, she’s still being rocked in an imaginary boat on the sea. And she hates it.

“I want to go out,” she whispers into her pillow.

“What? Outside?” Isabela asks.

“Please? I need air.”

Isabela glances at the window.

Mirabel must really be struggling if she is willing to go outside to try feel better.

She herself likes the outdoors and she only need to be inside for a few minutes before feeling caged, she can understand why Mirabel would want to go outside.

The weather doesn’t even look as bad as it did yesterday.

“You can’t walk. And I don’t think you want me carrying you.” Isabela said.

Mirabel sat up a bit then, Isabela helping her get there. The girl’s eyes flickered across the room before settling at the wardrobe.

“My parasol.” Mirabel prompts.

Isabela makes a noise in realisation.

She walks over to the wardrobe and pulls one door open, almost blinking in surprise when (unlike her own) everything is perfectly organised and nothing falls out onto her. The parasol is propped up conveniently for the taking.

She tries using it as a walking stick on her way back to Mirabel, wanting to test if it will be stable enough. However, the parasol isn’t even close to being right for her height, so she just stumbles awkwardly.

Mirabel places a hand on the shelf beside her. She frowns.

“What is it?” Isabela asks.

They both remember at the same time. No glasses.

“I can go steal a pair of Papa’s?”

“Different prescriptions. They wouldn’t help me.”

“Right… Let me know if you need help seeing something then.”

Mirabel manages much better with the parasol than Isabela did. Of course, Papa specifically made it for her as a birthday gift - the base of it, anyways. Mirabel then decorated it, in the style of Victorian… something or other. (Isabela doesn’t care for history at all).

But standing briefly is the easy part. Standing for longer or walking will be much harder.

Scratch that. Impossible.

Mirabel doesn’t bring herself to try, sits down before that point. A few tears dripping into her lap.

“It hurts so much,” she whimpers.

“It’s only been a few hours. It’ll take time to… get better, you know that.” Isabela reasons.

“I should have just stayed there.” Mirabel lamented, quietly. “What good is a wounded doe?”

~~~~~~

Luisa had thought it was only fair to reward the donkeys with a bundle of fresh straw.

If one of them hadn’t wandered far enough to the forest, Luisa never would have found Mirabel. She doesn’t know whether or not the donkey knew what it was doing - at the very least, it was curious by the noise.

It’s then she notices Ignacio Bolivar and Felicia Ruiz (both friends of Camilo but he has so many from different social groups or clubs, she has no idea which ones in particular were part of the prank) scouting around the very same barn.

Of course, it could be nothing. Ignacio’s family own the barn. But she had a gut feeling.

“Hola, Luisa!” Ignacio greeted.

“Hey. What are you two doing?” She asked, hoping to sound casual. She was a good bit older than them and didn’t want to come across weird.

“Came to check on the foals,” Felicia supplied. “What about you?”

“Just bringing them some straw, so they’ll be less tempted to run away.” Luisa answered.

“Why? Did they get out again?”

“Yesterday.”

“That was my bad.” Ignacio admitted. “I was meant to be watching them, but I was trying to get some homework done at the same time. I got up for some help because I was stuck on a question - took a little longer than expected.”

Luisa just nods.

She has no idea if it was them.

Would they be so civilised with her if it was? No - they’d think it was funny or try to avoid her entirely. Yes - they’d be scared she might get suspicious.

She hands over the straw, not wanting to be here any longer than she has to.

“Are you okay?” Felicia goes on to ask. “You don’t look okay.”

“Just busy, that’s all.” Luisa grumbled.

“Because of what happened to Mirabel?”

Time stands still.

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

Felicia doesn’t flinch when Luisa stares her down. “Camilo told us all this morning.”

He’s been out?

Wasn’t he grounded?

“I think I know who did it. The Hernandez siblings - Rebecca hates her and Lorenzo has some weird crush on her - and Mateo Solano. The Solanos are hunters by trade, aren’t they?”

“Ex-hunters, yeah.” Ignacio chimed in. “They still have all the gear though. Mateo is always bragging about it at football.”

Luisa didn’t wait around a second longer.

#encanto #encanto karma au #ask me anything #my writing #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #agustín madrigal

[jmagnabo92]

GGSB Fest 2024 - Perfect First Day

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - First Day of School

Sirius isn't ready for Harry's first day of primary school, but it turns out it's perfect.

AO3

***

Despite the fact that Sirius had gotten to spend the last few years as a stay-at-home parent and knew that this time was coming, he’s still sad even as he packs Harry’s bag for his first day of school.  They had gone shopping the day before to make sure he had all of his school supplies.  He’d picked out a nice outfit for the first, and once he’s packed, it’ll be time to tuck Harry in and before he knows it – they’ll be at the school… for Harry’s first day.

“Pads?” the small voice of his godson says from the top of the stairs.  

“I’ll be up in a minute to help tuck you in, just change into your pajamas.”

“Okay!”

It only takes a few more minutes before he steels himself and goes upstairs.  Tonight was the last night before everything would begin to change.

“Ready for bed, kiddo?” Sirius asks, a smile – only slightly forced – on his face.  He has no idea what he’s going to do without his kid for hours every day.  

“Yeah!” Harry cheers.

“What kind of bedtime story are you looking for tonight?” Sirius questions.

“Will you tell me about your first day of school?” 

Sirius let's out a little laugh as he sits beside Harry’s bed.  “Well, your dad and I didn’t go to primary school – only Hogwarts, and I’ve told you about meeting your mum and dad on the train ride to school, but your mum did go to primary school.”

“Will you tell me about her first day, then?”

Sirius hums.  “Well, she always liked to say that she met her best muggle friend on the first of school.  She had sat in the wrong seat and another classmate of hers had said that it was her seat – they were arguing as much as five-year-olds can argue and it turns out her name was Lila and with your mum’s name as Lily – they were so close it was easily mistaken.  The teacher thought they should separate the girls, but they became friends instead.”

Harry’s looking at him like that wasn’t much of story – which makes sense, his own story about meeting on the train and James pulling an imaginary sword had been far more entertaining.  

“Do you think I’ll make a friend like mum did?” Harry asks, eyes wide like he’s worried about that.

Sirius smiles softly at him.  “I’m sure you will, but not if you’re grouchy from lack of sleep.  So, get some sleep – big day tomorrow.”

Harry pouts a bit before he yawns.  “Night, Pads.”

“Night, kid.”

***

In the morning, Sirius packs Harry’s lunch before helping him with his backpack and taking him by the hand to walk him to the school down the street.  His kid is happily chattering on and on about what school might be like and not at all noticing that Sirius isn’t nearly as ready for this as he pretends to be.  

He knows that this is what Lily (and James) would’ve wanted, but after so long of never being away from one another, Sirius can’t help freaking out a bit.  

He’s just not ready for this – Harry’s not ready for this – maybe … maybe it would be better to hold him back a year … or homeschool him…

But they reach the school before Sirius knows it and he’s … disappointed.

He’s not ready for this.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter as they enter the school and Harry happily finds his classroom rather quickly for his age.  The teacher greets Harry and says, “Mr. Potter, please go ahead and help Harry find his desk – you can stay until class starts.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says.  He doesn’t correct her.  James’ parents had practically adopted him, and he hates the Black name, so when they moved, he simply decided to go by Potter, made things easier. 

He helps Harry find his desk next to a little boy, whose name plate reads Dean Thomas, and he smiles at the mother beside him.  

“Look Dean, here’s your deskmate,” the mother says.  “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The little boy – Dean – smiles and introduces himself, and Harry smiles and does the same after a quick nod from Sirius.  

Then, in his excitement once Dean shows him what he’d been drawing, Harry turns to him and says, “Look, Paddy, I made a friend.”

Sirius barely stifles his laugh as he says, “You sure did.”

Before anything else could be said, the teacher calls for last goodbyes and he hugs Harry tight, like he doesn’t want to let him go, and barely contains his desire to cry.  Another parent – not Dean’s mother – says, “Don’t worry, the day will go by faster than you think.”

Sirius nods, and let's go, telling Harry to be good and learn lots before following the other parents outside the classroom.  The one that had spoken to him, introduces himself as Holly’s father, and says, “First one?”

“And only,” Sirius says.  “He’s technically my godson/nephew.  I won’t have kids of my own, but I’ve been raising him since we lost his parents.  I was a stay-at-home parent and now… well, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Holly’s father gives him a small smile as they leave with Dean’s mother.  “Well, I’ve got a small shop that works on motor vehicles.  You know anything about that?”

Sirius grins.  “I built my motorbike from scratch.  I love motor vehicles.”

“Maybe we could go out to eat and talk about it?”

“I’d like that.”  

“Then, let’s go.”

***

Sirius could admit that he rather liked Holly’s father and Dean’s mother (who had come along as well, purely because she also expressed an interest).  Their outing had helped pass the day (which did go quickly) before they arrived to pick up their kids.  

As soon as he sees Sirius, Harry takes off at a run and straight into a waiting Sirius’ arms.  He’s already babbling about his day and his new friends Holly and Dean.  

“I made new friends, too,” Sirius teases, gesturing at Holly’s father and Dean’s mother.  The adults laugh, but Harry cheers and it’s wonderful.  

Holly’s father claps him on the shoulder and Dean’s mother smiles.  “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“We’ll be here.”

“Good.”

With that, they all wave goodbye and start to head home.  

Harry reiterates his entire day all happy and excited and honestly, there’s nothing better than this. 

He’s so thrilled that it’s all worked out – they’re both happy and they’re off to brighter future. 

The perfect first day of school.

#sirius black #harry james potter #sirius and harry #sirius and harry saturday #good godfather sirius black

[five-rivers]

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt:  Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately.  There was something in the atmosphere, almost.  It felt… lighter, maybe?  

He didn’t like it.  

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion.  The tendency had saved his life multiple times.  Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost.  Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with.  Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him.  Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often.  Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha.  He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one.  Skipped school and everything.  The whole high school experience.  Ha.  

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.  

He sighed, heavily.  Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding).  Stock up on supplies.  Get ready to weather a storm.  Literal or metaphorical.  

But hiding out in the cave was so boring.  There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah.  Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah.  Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts.  It was pretty empty around here.  

Just like Flynn’s heart.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  That was a good one.  

Eh.  Life wasn’t so bad.  He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time.  Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof.  Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity.  And not having a concussion.  Or losing any more teeth.  

But, back to his original topic.  

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe.  Was it directly Flynn’s problem?  No.  The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.  

Flynn recognized that.  Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom.  But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.  

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger.  Who knew what could come out of a portal?  At least according to the ghosts he talked to.  Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.  

This was going to suck so much.  

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary.  Which he had read.  Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck.  He could take one ghost.  Three? Yeah.  Not a chance.  

Maybe they’d leave?  They couldn’t know for sure he was here.  With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.  

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.  

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again.  He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either.  No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.  

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.  

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait.  They weren’t.  Flynn would know.  He’d made many unbelievable jokes.  They’d never attracted anything but groans.  

Ha.  

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost.  “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.  

“We don’t have any choice about her, though.  Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.  

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out.  Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn.  Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him.  The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago.  At least a decade.  

But he did scream.  Loudly.  Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all.  He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.  

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages.  “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.”  He examined his fingernails.  “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.  

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate.  Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.”  He eyed the eyeballs.  

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.  

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.  

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork.  “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn.  He adjusted his grip on his staff.  “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face.  “No.  Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby.  Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.  

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip.  Hard.  Okay. He wasn’t dreaming.  And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway?  Flynn was nothing.  He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.  

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands.  “Then let us away to the castle.”

.

Well.  That was certainly a castle.  Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.  

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house.  Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.  

Or even hole, when compared to all this.  Dear god, this place was fancy.  

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.  

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin.  You are not underdressed.  

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings.  “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost.  “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.  

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one.  I will collect you for dinner in three hours.  Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.  

… There would be curtains, right?  This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.  

He opened the door.  

Lots of curtains.  Lovely.

No, really.  It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains.  He might be crying.  

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft.  He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy.  Filthy.  Covered in years’ worth of grime.  He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.  

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath.  He was craving a human-safe bath.  With clean water and soap.  

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Unrestrained luxury.  

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter.  The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.  

There was a sink.  

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.  

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.  

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water.  Because he made it so, so dirty.  He sank into the water, up to his chin.  

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause.  Because it was always a lost cause.  Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.  

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available.  He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one.  Were there ghost dentists?  There had to be ghost dentists.  They had a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth.  Sharp, scary, teeth.  

Ugh.  His baby cousin was a ghost.  He’d probably have teeth like a shark.  When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all.  Because.  Baby. Little, tiny, baby.  

Who Flynn barely knew.  

Why did he even want Flynn?  Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?  

Ghosts were weird.  Anything could be possible.  

He flopped face-first onto the bed.  His bed?  His temporary and maybe permanent bed.  If he was allowed to stay here.  

Oh, gosh.  Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals.  Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?  

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?  

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.  

(Dad?  Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed.  But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.  

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now.  He was living in the scariest place out of the world.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe.  Oh, boy. Many clothes.  He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store.  Incredible.  

They were so fancy, too.  He didn’t know how to choose.  

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.  

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed.  Some of them looked cool.  And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.  

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet.  Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear.  Wow.  It had been a while.  

.

Okay.  The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice.  Like, no nap nice.  

He wanted to take a nap.  

But no nap was occurring.  

The bed was too soft.  Ugh.  This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.  

He groaned.  He hadn’t thought that was real.  He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama.  Or something.  

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.  

Maybe he could sleep here.  

.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover.  What cover? Oh.  Bed.  That was the bed.  He was in the room.  In the castle.  The ghost king’s castle.  

His baby cousin’s castle.  

He was going to cry.  This was so weird.  

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand.  Which.  Might not have been the best of ideas.  But, hey, he was dressed now.  

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle.  Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there.  One of his eyebrows went up.  “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down.  Orange and green went fine together.  What was he talking about?  

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.  

“Come, now.  Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back.  At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.  

He decided not to do that.  Running away wasn’t his style.  

(Who was he kidding?  That was definitely his style.  He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing.  Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.  

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Only the future.”  He swung the large, gilded door open.  

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates.  There were a small group of children beyond it.  One of them waved at him.  Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.  

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

[kpopimaginings]

Double Trouble - Heechul

A/N: Anon requested some dad!Heechul, so here he is spending the day with his twins (don’t know why I decided to give him twins, just thought it’d be more fun I guess) Enjoy!

Today you and the producers of My Little Old Boy decided it would be fun for you to leave Heechul  with your twins and watch him take care of them single handily. The twins could be a handful when there were two of you and you knew all too well it could be harder when you were outnumbered, so you were excited to get to watch the episode and see how he handled it.

The two of you fed and dressed them first thing, as was your usual routine. You were sure Heechul's favourite part of the day was doing his daughters hair.

"Hey, Minnie," he said, lifting her from her highchair after breakfast. "Are you going to let appa do your hair this morning?"

She nodded happily, making Heechul smile. Some days Hoo Min wouldn't let anyone near her hair , so her father always asked first and respect her answer, even if that meant she spent the rest of the day looking like she had birds nesting in it.

While you got your son , Hoo Seok, ready, Heechul dressed Hoo Min and bushed her hair up into two little bunches.

"My gorgeous girl," he said, kissing her forehead before placing her down on the floor.

"And how's my boy?" he asked Hoo Seok as he toddled over to see his sister. "Are you gorgeous too?"

"Of course, he is, he's half you," you told your husband fondly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He quickly took you in his arms. "I can't believe you are deserting us," he told you.

"I am not deserting you," you laughed. "I am going to spend the day with my friends and not worry about mum stuff for the first time in nearly three years. I look after them all the time when you're working, you'll be fine."

You quickly disappeared to get yourself ready now that the twins were sorted. You loved your babies and the family life you had created with Heechul, but it was a nice change being able to get a little dressed up and not worry about packing a bag full of baby supplies.

"Right," you said as you emerged from your room, finding Heechul sat on the floor being fed 'breakfast' by the children at their play kitchen. "I'm ready so I'm going to head off."

Heechul nodded at you looking up from his imaginary meal.

"Kids, are you going to be good and look after appa for me?" you asked as you kissed each of them on the head.

Hoo Min simply nodded at you, while Hoo Seok announced that he was busy making appa a coffee. You smiled and waved at them, Heechul waving back as you turned and left.

"You're both going to help me out today, aren't you?" he said, taking the empty plastic mug his son offered him.

"Don't worry, appa," Hoo Min told him stroking his hair. "You good."

Heechul laughed. "If you believe in me, I'm sure we'll be fine," he said pulling her into a quick hug.

"Minne, tidy!" Hoo Seok demanded as he began to clear the plates from in front of his father back into the tiny kitchen.

Heechul happily spent the rest of the morning playing with his children, which basically consisted of him just doing what he was told. As morning became afternoon, he decided it was probably time to make some lunch for them all.

As he was getting everything ready in the real kitchen, a sudden cry caught his attention. He spun round as Hoo Seok wandered over.

"Minnie fell down," he announced.

"Good boy," Heechul praised his son for coming for help, before rushing to Hoo Min.

"Hey, princess," he said, scooping her up into his arms. "What hurts?"

She rubbed the side of her head as her tears continued to fall.

"Oh dear," he cooed, staying calm as he ran a hand over her head to make sure there was nothing to worry about. "Let's blow on it and make it better."

"Seok can help," chimed in Hoo Seok as he also blew in his sister's direction.

"Well done, looking after Hoo Min with me," Heechul said, smiling at the concern Hoo Seok was showing for her. He was always so relieved at how well the twins got on and the fact that they usually looked out for one another.

As Hoo Min's cries died down, Heechul spoke to her. "Are you ok now? Are you going to playing with Seokie while I finish the food?"

"Appa, no," she whined as she clung onto him.

"It's ok, Minnie," Hoo Seok told her, patting her back.

"See, Seokie can look after you."

"I want appa."

"Ok, do you want to sit in your chair in the kitchen while I do lunch?"

"Yeah," she nodded, still sniffling slightly.

"Alright then. Hoo Seok, are you coming or do you want to play?"

He hummed for a moment in thought. "Toy and chair?"

Heechul chuckled at his childs negotiation. "You can bring one toy, but it goes away when we eat. Min, do you want a toy?"

"Helly!" she answered quickly.

"I got it," Seok said, grabbing the plastic helicopter, and finding a toy for himself.

"Thank you," Heechul said, "I'll carry Min, and you can carry the toys."

Hoo Seok smiled, seemingly delighted to be helping.

Once the children were settled and playing nicely in their highchairs, Heechul was able to finish preparing lunch for them all.

At first, Hoo Min was reluctant to give up her toy, but Heechul just dished up food for himself and Hoo Seok. When she saw the both of them enjoying fruit and rice cakes, she got a bit jealous and decided to swap Helly for some food of her own.

By the time you got back a couple of hours later, the place was suspiciously quiet. You left your shoes, jacket and bag by the door before sneaking into the living room. Hoo Seok was curled up on one side of the sofa asleep under a blanket and Hoo Min was being cradled by Heechul as he softly read a book to her.

"Hello, my wonderful family," you said softly.

Heechul grinned up at you while Hoo Min made grabby hands.

"Eomma!" she called happily.

"Shhh," you urged, lifting her from Heechul's lap.  "Don't wake Seok, he's sleeping. Has he had a busy day?"

"Yeah, he's been a very good, helpful boy, hasn't he, Min?" said Heechul. "He's been helping look after you."

"Oh no, why did you need looking after?" you asked her.

"Ow," she said touching the side of her head that she bumped. "I fell down."

"Silly thing," you said, kissing her head softly. "All better now though?"

She nodded. "Appa and Seokie blew on it."

You smiled. "Good. I can't wait to see it all on the tele."

You squeezed on to the sofa between your two boys, careful not to wake Hoo Seok and Heechul wrapped his arms around you and his daughter.

"It was actually easier than I expected," he told you, "but we still missed you."

You give him a soft peck on the lips. "I'll never be far," you told him.

"Shall we finish our book while you cuddle eomma?" Heechul then asked Hoo Min who settled into your embrace looking expectantly at the book in her fathers hands.

NAVIGATION  |  SUPER JUNIOR MASTERLIST

#heechul #heechul imagine #heechul headcanons #heechul scenarios #heechul fluff #kim heechul #super junior #heechul oneshot #suju #suju scenarios #suju heechul #suju fluff #suju fic #heechul x reader #heechul x y/n #dad!heechul #super junior scenarios #super junior imagine #super junior fic #kim heechul imagine #elf #suju elf

[monsterywriting]

Zhulgan (orc)

prologue | masterlist

wlw story

nsfw (minors dni)

word count: 10.3k

Despite the short detour being strictly business, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling up within you at the prospect of getting to visit a market.

You had no money to your name to even enjoy it, and it wasn’t a true market like what you once imagined big city ones would be like - just a few rows of sparsely stocked stalls temporarily set up on the road near Avinca the caravan had passed a while back - but it was still a welcome reprieve from the long stretches of time spent staring out the back of a covered wagon and a chance to see other humans.

Your role was simple: accompany Zhulgan, Alkgan and Vulgud to the market, stand there and make the vendors feel slightly more comfortable to have orc raiders in their midst. The others would handle the rest.

Realistically, with the war affecting everyone, it was doubtful anyone would turn away their coin, but you still held an entire dialogue in your mind, arguing with an imaginary seller acting stubborn, the entire time you walked from the camp.

Indeed, when the four of you entered the market, there were some stares but if anyone had an objection to the orcs’ presence, they didn’t voice it. Still, your group was given a wide berth as you made your way through the aisles.

The others walked with purpose, leaving you to scurry behind them struggling to keep up. Eventually, they stopped at the small group of stalls selling meat. Alkgan motioned for you to follow him as he approached a stall with beef halves run by an old woman.

You hung back slightly, wanting to allow Alkgan to speak. All seemed to be going well, the woman apparently unbothered by an orc patronizing her stall, until Alkgan picked his choices and she gave him a price.

“15 gold for a half carcass?!” You said, louder and more indignantly than you intended, interrupting Alkgan from digging around his pocket for the gold.

“That’s the price,” the woman told you defensively, seemingly only just noticing you standing there for the first time at that moment and eyeing you up and down.

By that point, Zhulgan and Vulgud had wandered over to see what the commotion was. Rather than shrink away from all the eyes turning to you, however, you swallowed your nerves and stood straighter, “We’re traveling from the southern peninsula; we need supplies to make it to the western border.”

“I have to make a living, too, girl,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

You hesitated. You didn’t want to antagonize the woman further by pointing out that the price of meat hadn’t risen half as much a few years back when a drought killed half the herds, but you couldn’t afford to back down when you were already making a scene. This would require a more delicate approach.

“Please, grandmother-” you were taking a risky gambit, relying on the hope that the woman had any sort of maternal instinct for you to appeal to. For extra points, you switched to old Dumirian, crossing your fingers that your actual grandmother’s lessons paid off, “Our village was destroyed by soldiers. We’re a large caravan with many small children who need to eat… we can buy more, so you don’t have to carry too much home this evening, but we also need to buy other supplies for our journey.”

You put on your best pleading look, trying to appear pitiable without laying it on too thick. You hoped she wouldn’t think the orcs were there to be intimidating, but she seemed to ignore them as she stared long and hard at you.

“Fine,” she finally grunted, pointing at you, “For you, child. 40 gold for everything on the table.”

“Thank you,” you gasped, turning to Alkgan and the others to relay the deal you negotiated. It still seemed a steep price for you, growing up in the middle of cattle country, but the cost for each of the four came out to be significantly lower than what Alkgan had been about to pay for just one.

Zhulgan eventually nodded, giving the okay for Alkgan to pay the woman as she and Vulgud lifted the four half-carcasses from the table, one on each shoulder. It was almost two thousand pounds of meat, more than enough to last the caravan until the border. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if you shouldn’t have butt in, your interactions to let the others handle everything clear - stressed to you before you even left the camp, in fact. You waved goodbye to the old woman, nervously trailing after the orcs, expecting to be reamed out for your impudence.

“Good job,” Zhulgan grunted once you caught up, shifting one of her two halves to glance down at you, her expression unreadable but the praise leaving you beaming with pride.

Getting your literal saviors a discount on some meat hardly seemed equivalent to all they’d done for you thus far, but it was the first time you felt you truly did something worthy of chipping off your debt.

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. Vulgud haggled more successfully on his own than Alkgan had with a vendor for two steel bars and three iron ingots while you zoned out next to him. Zhulgan had surprisingly put you in charge of buying salts and spices to cure the meat with once you returned to camp. It was nerve-racking to say the least, going up to stalls alone with money that was not your own and the weight of three orc’s stares on your back.

You were drained by the time you returned to camp, doing your best to help Zhulgan and Vulgud keep the children from getting their little tusks into the meat before you could get it to the “kitchen”.

While the meat was being divided up into cuts, you wandered around camp, not having anything in particular to do in that moment as everyone waved you off for already doing your part in preparing dinner and not quite wanting to waste the afternoon with a nap.

As you passed Alkgan’s wagon, he popped his head out and called you over.

“Here,” he said, dropping a small pouch in your hands. At your confusion, he explained, “For the meat today. The difference in gold you got.”

“I can’t take this!” You exclaimed in disbelief, trying to get him to take the pouch back, “I was just doing what I promised!”

Alkgan shrugged, “If I remember correctly, you were told not to do anything. Besides, it’s Zhulgan’s decision, not mine. Also, you should be saving every coin you get for after you cross the orc lands.”

He had a point, but you still felt guilty taking the money. Finally, you gave up on trying to get Alkgan to take it back, tying the strings to your belt and folding your waistband over it. Resolving to return the money to Zhulgan directly later, you walked back to your wagon to wait for dinner to be ready.

“15 gold for this meat?!” Grace had huffed when Alkgan recounted the story later over dinner, displaying an even stronger vexation than what you had at the absurd price, “Gods have mercy this war has emboldened vultures!”

You snorted, hiding your smile with your plate but understanding her chagrin. The Cedars, despite their arboreal surname, were cattle people; Grace would know best the quality of meat you’d been sold, even if it had already been diced and cooked into a stew.

Across the fire, you noticed Zhulgan watching your group laughing together. Just as you were about to return your attention back to a question Rose asked, however, you realized something was amiss.

“Your bead is missing,” you called from across the fire, gesturing towards the right side of your head where the unfurling braid was mirrored on Zhulgan. It was the smallest one that she usually left hanging alone, the rest all tied back together like she usually did.

Zhulgan’s hand instantly flew up to the braid, confirming that the multi-colored bead was indeed gone. She looked around frantically, standing and twisting around to look at the ground behind her. There were murmurs from some of the orcs around the fire, but no one rose to help.

Only the humans leapt up, all of you knowing the pain of losing a piece of jewelry. Most walked around the fire and retraced Zhulgan’s steps back to her wagon. You, Mauve, Winnie and Rose got on your hands and knees and combed the surrounding grass in search of it.

“It must have fallen off in the market,” you told Zhulgan apologetically once you all reconvened by the fire, everyone’s searches turning up fruitless, “You’ll probably just have to get another one.”

Despite your proposition, Zhulgan didn’t look happy, snarling something in orcish and storming back to her wagon. Alkgan merely shook his head when you looked over at him for some explanation, everyone else slowly returning to their previous conversations.

There was obviously something unspoken going on, some significant piece of information that seemed to be common knowledge for the orcs but a mystery to you and the other humans.

“Can’t Zhulgan just wear a different one?” Winnie questioned once everyone was sat back down, the mood slowly picking back up around you.

“No. That bead was given to her,” Alkgan replied, failing to elaborate further.

“Well, can’t you give her a new one?” You pressed, trying to get some explanation for the scene that had just unfolded in front of everyone.

“Our father gave it to her,” Alkgan finally answered after a few moments.

You immediately understood. If the position of chief was inherited for orcs as it was in human leadership, that meant their father was more likely than not gone. You had nothing of sentimental value left from your family but if you had, you likely would have had a similar reaction to losing it, if not worse.

“What if we made a replica? I could go back to the market and ask if anyone makes wooden beads. I could even be the one to give it to her and explain,” you offered, interrupted by the laughter of some of the orcs that had been listening in.

Alkgan bared his teeth at the offenders before looking down at you, “That… isn’t a good idea.”

You sighed, looking down at your plate once again and continuing to eat in silence. While you understood that it wouldn’t be an adequate replacement, the likelihood of the bead being found in the market before the camp moved on was slim to none.

Resolving to look for it yourself - or get a replacement if you couldn’t - you turned in early. You got up before the sun, climbing over the others in your shared wagon and through the camp. On the way, you passed Zhulgan’s wagon. Without thinking, you peeked inside, intent on asking her if she wanted to go with you only to find the wagon was already empty.

By the time you reached the market, vendors were already setting up their stalls. You followed the same path as the previous day, your eyes kept squarely on the ground looking for any sign of the bead in the dirt.

You smiled sheepishly at the old woman from the meat stall when she greeted you, helping her set up when she asked. She spoke at length, mostly telling you about her daughters and grandchildren and complaining about how the vendors were all forced out of the cities because soldiers would take all their hard-earned money.

Once you finished, you took the opportunity to ask if any of the stalls sold painted beads. With the directions she gave you, you quickly wove your way through the stalls to the other side of the market. It was easy enough to find the man she told you of, his stall filled with colorful accessories, mostly leather hair ties and wooden brushes. Asking him if he had beads large enough to put in a braid, you looked through the bowl filled with various wooden beads he held out to you.

You were pressed for time, the sky already brightening as the sun began to rise. The caravan was no doubt beginning to wake up and would soon be finished packing up the camp - but you didn’t want to rush your decision, trying to find something that reminded you of the original bead’s design, even if you couldn’t remember its exact markings.

The closest one you could find to the olive and orange coloring was an oblong bead painted red with alternating blue and green palm fronds on it. You buy it, apologetic as the man is forced to break one of your gold coins to silver and bronze change. When he’s more than a little short, you also buy twelve brushes and leather hair ties, giving him back a silver coin to cover the cost.

By the time you returned to camp, the wagons were already loaded and the children were being herded into their respective rides. You went straight to the wagon you shared with the other humans, deciding to give the bead to Zhulgan in private whenever you eventually saw her next. In the meantime, you handed out your immensely popular gifts, everyone more than happy to finally brush their hair with something infinitely better than their fingers, no one really asking questions about where you got the money.

You felt bad lying about the money you had, but you weren’t planning on keeping it for yourself anyhow. While you agreed with Alkgan that you needed to begin saving money for your life after leaving Dumir, this particular payment didn’t feel rightfully yours. After returning it, you would have to figure out a way to pay back the rest.

Unfortunately, you didn’t see Zhulgan for the rest of the day, the caravan not stopping to set up camp until the next evening, but by then you were too busy watching after the children before dinner to go looking for her.

Zhulgan wanted to avoid the larger cities more likely to have Dumirian soldiers stationed in them, so the caravan shifted course to northwest. The market was the final stop before the caravan moved away from the coast, venturing further inland to avoid the ports.

You immediately missed the cooling ocean air - not just because it reminded you of home, but because the air became humid and even the nights were muggy and miserable.

Rather than squeeze into a wagon all together, everyone in the camp who had to share their sleeping space took to sleeping under the stars with just your pillows. It offered little relief from the heat, even without a blanket, but after a long day of being jostled around on a hard wood floor you would pass out cold every night.

You woke with a start on one such night when someone stepped on your back, your instinct to begin thrashing when you felt hands pressing down on your shoulder until you processed that it was Winnie shushing you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You groused, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and falling back onto your pillow.

“I have to pee,” Winnie answered swiftly.

You pause, letting your hand fall to your side and waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness to examine her closely. She shifted from one leg to another, rolling her shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes even in the dark.

“I’ll join you, then.”

“No!” She gasped, her voice rising slightly. Her agitated reaction in response to the offer had been entirely expected, and Winnie realized as well that you had seen right through her ruse, deflating with a sigh, “Fine. I’m meeting Vulgud.”

You blink dumbly, your mouth falling open in a silent ‘oh’. You thought back on the journey thus far, trying to come up with some hint of the two being that close, reading into every instance you saw the two interacting with a new perspective. You couldn’t recall any single moment that stood out, much less indicate that they were involved. You felt guilty, so preoccupied with leaving Dumir and how you would all survive that you hadn’t been paying attention to the others in the present. You wondered what else you had missed.

“Okay,” you finally said, voice high and ears burning as you looked anywhere but directly at Winnie, “Be back before morning and… don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Winnie looked mortified, her face turning a tomato red as she hissed your name. You fell back as soon as she scurried off with an almost inaudible promise to be back well before morning. If it hadn’t been so damned hot - and your weren’t surrounded by other people sound asleep - you would have hidden under a blanket and screamed.

With the embarrassing exchange fresh on your mind, you couldn’t go back to sleep. By chance, you remembered the bead that had until that point lay forgotten in the coin purse. You never did give it to Zhulgan despite there being plenty of opportunities to do so since you bought it. Your hand wiggled its way into your bag, rolling the cool wood in your hand.

Eventually giving up on falling back asleep, you resolved to leave the purse with the bead inside on the edge of Zhulgan’s wagon for her to find in the morning, getting up and picking your way around the others much more carefully than Winnie had.

You proceeded to spend the next ten minutes pacing outside her wagon. Every time you stepped close you would find yourself spinning back around, unable to go through with the drop off, only to make it a few steps before turning around and trying to approach all over again, any resolve you had while still half-asleep sputtering out before you could actually enact your plan. Once you had time to second guess your actions, the entire thing seemed ridiculous. Alkgan’s words echoed in your mind - this was a bad idea.

Your concern was mostly over the bead, rather than the money. The orcs’ ways were still largely a mystery to you, even when you had been living alongside them, particularly what they thought of gifts. There was also the matter of Zhulgan’s reaction would be. You weren’t particularly close to Zhulgan, most of her communication with you through her brother. Now you questioned if it was a good idea to try and replace something so personal with a random bead so far from her home. If she wanted to replace it at all, she was likely waiting until the caravan returned to the orc lands. What if she didn’t even notice the bag and it fell off the wagon, never to be seen again? Then the loss would be all that gold and the bead.

Finally deciding enough was enough while facing away from the wagon, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to turn around, put the bead on the edge of the wagon and be done with it.

When you did turn, however, you were confronted with a snarling Zhulgan, bleary-eyed and clearly displeased with being woken.

“Uh- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you I was…” you trailed off, struggling to come up with some excuse as to why you were loitering around her wagon in the middle of the night, scrapping the bead idea entirely. While you stammered, Zhulgan’s head disappeared back into the wagon.

You stood there for a moment in disbelief, wondering if she simply decided you weren’t worth talking to and went back to sleep. Just as you were about to turn and leave, her voice called out from inside.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and come in.”

You obeyed without hesitation, clambering up the ledge and trying not to appear as curious as you felt being in Zhulgan’s personal space. Orc wagons were all huge; even the single orcs’ wagons had to be large enough to carry all their belongings as well as fit a fully grown orc to sleep comfortably in at night. The chief’s wagon was no exception, trunks stacked and pushed against both sides of the wagon with the center covered in thick pelts - obviously Zhulgan’s bed.

On the far end of the wagon, Zhulgan was sitting down rubbing her forefinger and thumb into her eyelids to clear the crust of sleep, her hair down in loose waves that reached her waist. It was a shock to see the orc chief so at ease - you were so used to seeing the rigid, ever-serious woman riding alongside the caravan, or silently eating dinner. You sometimes caught glimpses of a different Zhulgan with the other orcs, but in front of you and the other humans, she never broke character.

You took only a couple steps inside before sitting at the edge of the outermost pelt, too afraid to venture deeper. When Zhulgan made no attempt to speak first, you decided to break the silence.

“Have you found your bead?”

“You came here in the middle of the night to ask me that?” Zhulgan asked, her eyebrow raised.

You shifted under Zhulgan’s disbelieving stare, eventually resigning yourself to the fact that your true purpose in waking her was infinitely better than wasting Zhulgan’s time asking random questions to beat around the bush.

You took out the purse and the bead, holding both out on your palm, “I went back to the market- I looked for your bead first, of course, but I couldn’t find it… I had to use some of the gold you gave me to get this one but I can’t accept it- I’ll find a way to pay it back but the rest is all there.”

Zhulgan stared down at your hand, her entire body tensing and eyes alert, though she made no move to reach over and take either from you.

“I’m sorry, Alkgan told me the bead was a bad idea-” you began to retract your hand so you could remove the bead but Zhulgan moved faster, taking your wrist in her hand and taking the bead from you.

“It’s fine,” Zhulgan said tersely, her eyes never leaving yours, not even to look at the bead in her hand.

“W-what about the gold?” You stammered, leaning forward to try and place the purse onto Zhulgan’s open palm.

She closed her fist before you could, shaking her head, “it’s yours.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but one stern look from Zhulgan silenced you. You were resolute in your decision to give the gold back, but definitely weren’t brave enough to argue with an orc chief to her face about it, conceding to try again another day.

Once the silence began to stretch into uncomfortable, you cleared your throat, unable to tell if she even liked your other gift, still in her hand on her lap.

“Uhm… I can put it in your hair, if you’d like?” You offered awkwardly, surprised when Zhulgan actually handed you the bead after a long pause, seemingly unwilling to part with it.

You crawled over to her side, waiting patiently as Zhulgan grabbed a small wire hook and hair tie from the top of one of her trunks and handed everything to you. Rising to your knees, you set to work combing your fingers through her hair to detangle it.

As you ran your fingers through one last time with no resistance, Zhulgan’s right hand nestled itself on the back of your knee. You tried not to jump or show any reaction to the sudden contact, realizing too late how intimate your position was, leaning against Zhulgan. There you were, alone in Zhulgan’s wagon, less than a hair’s breadth away from each other when you only intended to drop the gold and bead off.

You were so nervous, you nearly dropped it while trying to run the hook through it, able to catch it against your body before it was lost in the shadows but immediately thrown into another crisis as Zhulgan’s hand rose slightly when you first fumbled, then tightened around your thigh when you secured it again. This time you did jump, knowing Zhulgan could feel your muscles tensing underneath her hand. For once, you were grateful for the humidity, at least having an excuse for your sweaty, flustered appearance.

Once a sizable lock of hair was looped through the hole, it was easy to pull the rest all the way through and move the bead up until it was almost to Zhulgan’s jaw, near where the other one had originally been. You were technically done, but you found yourself unwilling to be the first to move, your fingers still toying with the bead.

“I should go,” you finally whispered, grateful your voice didn’t sound as uncertain as you felt.

Zhulgan turned her head fully to you, her eyes boring right into your own, her lips parting and tongue peeking out for a moment to wet them, “If you’d like.”

You were caught entirely off guard, eyes focused on her mouth before flitting your attention up to her eyes with a delay that would’ve been noticeable even if Zhulgan hadn’t been watching our reaction carefully. You had no idea what to say in response and Zhulgan was being even more tight-lipped than usual while she waited for you to answer.

“Uhh—” you began intelligently, your eyes flying down to your leg as she gave it a reassuring squeeze, making your resolve to leave crumble even further. You were certain you weren’t imagining the sudden atmospheric shift in the wagon, that you weren’t alone in your anticipation for something, anything to happen.

Zhulgan continued to watch you, patiently waiting for you to get a grip. There was no amusement, no teasing - at least, on purpose, you were fairly sure - about how tongue-tied you were, just the constant weight of her eyes on your face and her hand on your thigh. You wished she would remove it, put it on the floor so you would no longer be distracted by it, wanting so badly for her to just move it up past the hem of your nightgown instead of making you say something first.

“I should braid it,” you finally exhaled, your mouth full of sand and hyperaware of every single point of contact between you, “so it will stay in place.” Zhulgan hummed, the meaning behind which you could only guess but she remained still, neither convincing you to stay or pointing out your conflicting statements.

Slowly, your hands returned to her scalp, taking the lock with the bead and sectioning off two more locks of similar enough size. Oh gods you were nervous, under no illusion your shaking hands would even compare to those of an orc, even their children better at making a braid than you by the time they hit adolescence. Still, though you were certain Zhulgan would fix it anyways come morning, you tried your best not to mess up too badly, tucking away the errant tufts while you worked.

Zhulgan’s thumb began to move, making your breath catch in your throat when the pad of her finger brushed circles over your skin, her palm once again settled in the crook of your knee. You stilled, only a few turns into the braid. Hesitantly, once it became clear Zhulgan had no plans to go further at that point, you began to weave the locks together again, your breathing continuing noticeably more labored.

Zhulgan muttered something in orcish under her breath as you finally tied off the end, your eyes fluttering up to meet hers. You had been picking up some orcish slowly but surely over the course of your journey, Alkgan taking the time to teach you when he had time, but you didn’t know much more than a few relevant words and phrases and were also too distracted to catch any more than one in particular: sweet girl.

A common pet name between parent and child within the caravan - as well as for couples, you thought, more importantly. You wet your lips, mirroring her own actions earlier and you catch Zhulgan looking down at them just as you had earlier.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice so low you were certain it had only been said in your own head, yet another unfortunate instance of you getting lost in your own thoughts and forgetting to actually speak. You weren’t even sure what exactly you were asking Zhulgan to do, just certain that you wanted this misery to end.

Zhulgan closed the distance between you, her plush lips enveloping your own in an electrifying kiss. You melted immediately, glad for your hand on her shoulder to keep yourself upright. Her palm travelled upward, leisurely in its pace and aimless in its direction, stopping for a moment midway of what you’d hoped would be its destination to grip the meat of your thigh.

You whined into Zhulgan’s mouth as her rough fingertips brushed against a sensitive spot on your inner thigh, the dull tip of her tusk digging into your cheek as you arched your back into her, your lips never wanting to leave hers.

You eventually have to part for air, both of you panting heavily as you both looked at each other with heavy-lidded eyes.

You wanted to stay longer, but your mind reluctantly reminded you of Winnie’s promise to return before morning and, just outside the wagon, the first rays of morning light were making the camp gray.

“I have to go. They’ll notice I’m gone,” you said, the faintest hint of a whine in your tone as you reluctantly let go of your vice grip on Zhulgan’s shoulder.

After a moment, Zhulgan’s hand slid down the length of your thigh, over the bend of your knee and to the floor by her side, her fingertips brushing against your bare calf and sending one last shiver up your spine. Eventually, you climbed to your feet like a newborn calf.

As soon as you were standing, Zhulgan shifted until she was facing away from you. You felt the urge to say something, but had no idea what - thank her? Apologize? You opened your mouth, then snapped it shut again, leaving the wagon and making the trek back to where the others still lay sleeping.

Laying back down on your thin blanket, now slightly damp with dew, You told yourself you were staying up until Winnie got back, but you were really just running over the events of the night over and over in your mind, analyzing every second of interaction and wondering what could have happened if you stayed.

The thought immediately made you feel guilty the moment it crossed your mind, knowing it was selfish to be seeking personal comfort in your temporary accommodations. You should be planning the next step, figuring out what to do once you crossed the orc lands instead of imagining a night spent in Zhulgan’s arms…

You remained awake well after Winnie returned, the first beams of orange sunlight cutting through the distant mist covering the mountains in the horizon. You couldn’t bring yourself to scold her for staying out later than she promised, you yourself having done the very same thing.

By the time the others began to wake, you were exhausted. You flinched when Mauve leaned over to wake you only to find you already staring up at the sky. The morning passed in a haze. It was your turn to ride in the kids’ wagon while the caravan finally passed Barba. You mostly just let them play with your hair while you were lost in thought, the younger kids more than happy to be allowed to practice their braiding on you.

For years you had assumed your indifference towards the boys of Ozryn could be attributed to the fact that you had known them all your life, unable to find the kids you grew up with as attractive. Even as your friends managed to do just that, your mind was always ready with some rationalization. Never before had you felt as you did with Zhulgan, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach at the very memory alien to you.

Perhaps it was all a mistake, your mind conflating the debt you owed her with desire, gratitude mistaken for feelings. Nevermind that Alkgan had been the one to help you that day, and the sibling that you have been spending much more time with since then… No, you simply respected Zhulgan, felt indebted to her, wanted to kiss her again—

You cursed under your breath, apologizing aloud as you extracted yourself from the group of kids making braids of varying size and quality in your hair. They merely shrugged, easily transitioning to playing with each other’s hair instead.

You were tying your hair back when the wagon suddenly lurched to a halt, everyone inside tumbling as well. In the process, your hair tie snapped as you jerked your hands apart to find purchase before you could fall out the back of the wagon. You groaned, the combined reaction of your back knocking into the wooden frame and orc kids knocking into you. Another groan left you at the sight of the two pieces of leather still being clutched in your hands.

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, waiting until the chorus of grumbling affirmations died down before crawling out the driver’s end.

Derdig, a young orc only recently having earned the title of warrior, appeared just as confused as you were at the abrupt stop.

“What happened?”

“No idea,” he replied, trying to look over the tops of the wagons, confirming your suspicion. Whatever it was, it must have happened towards the front of the caravan.

“We’re setting camp here!” Augrak called from a few wagons ahead.

There were more than a few annoyed groans across the caravan, no one happy to be stopping so soon. You jumped from the wagon and walked ahead, careful to avoid the wagons veering off the road.

It was soon apparent what the issue was: a wagon leaning heavily to one side in the middle of the road, its back wheel missing. Zhulgan and Vulgud were in deep discussion next to it as you approached.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, doing your best not to look directly at Zhulgan lest you stumble on your words, only to find yourself unable to meet Vulgud’s eyes as you thought of Winnie the night before. You settled on examining the intact wheel still laying on the ground.

“One of the fasteners snapped when it hit a dip,” Vulgud sighed, “It will take me a few hours to make a temporary one and change it… and I might as well check the other wagons while we’re at it.”

“Mauve can help you,” you offered, though it felt somewhat awkward to be doing so in her absence, “It will go faster with two people.”

Vulgud nodded once in thanks, heading off to his own wagon for supplies. It was only after he was gone you realized you should have walked back with him, now standing alone with Zhulgan. To your great surprise, she still wore the exact same braid you made. You wondered if anyone had noticed it before almost immediately concluding it definitely had; all the orcs had braids of some form or another, and Zhulgan’s was so obviously made by an amateur.

You felt embarrassed at the thought of her telling others you had been the one to make it. Zhulgan definitely wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, but you fretting at the possibility that others would find out what the two of you had done afterwards.

“Your hair is still down,” Zhulgan observed.

You flinched, touching the ends of your hair at the reminder of your broken hair tie, having worn it every day since you bought it. Did your hair look that bad? It must have, considering the number of kids that had been braiding it - or, more accurately for some, twisting it together haphazardly until it made knots.

Between the current state of your hair and the braid you made on hers, Zhulgan probably thought you had never even learned to take care of it.

“Oh, yeah… It snapped.”

Zhulgan’s lips parted slightly, seemingly on the verge of saying something when Rose called out to you and Zhulgan, waving her hand for the two of you to come over.

At first, you were relieved to be called away before you could embarrass yourself further. You didn’t make it far, however, until you saw what she had been calling the two of you for.

A small party of soldiers - Dumirian, by their flags - was riding down the road towards the caravan from Barba, their armor glinting in the evening sun.

“Go get the others and wait in the wagon. Don’t be seen,” you told Rose, unable to explain the terror that seemed to fill you at the very sight of the soldiers.

“Take the children with you,” Zhulgan added, Rose nodding and hurrying off.

Perhaps your distrust was unfounded - these were technically your countrymen, after all - but your previous experience with soldiers obviously sowed the seed of doubt within you that was currently sprouting. You wanted to err on the side of caution, if only to keep things simple for the orcs.

“I am General Tarren Aubron,” the leading man introduced himself as they stopped in front of you and Zhulgan, sliding his leg over his horse’s back and stepping down, “Do you require assistance?”

Assuming he was addressing Zhulgan about the broken wagon, you remained silent, your gaze behind the general and on the swords his men carried on this supposedly friendly visit. When the silence stretched on, you looked at the general, your stomach sinking with the realization that he was looking directly at you. You glanced out the corner of your eye to meet Zhulgan’s, more nervous than you probably should have been. It was making you slow. Why would you need help? And why wasn’t Zhulgan speaking?

Recalling that she allowed Alkgan to speak for her when you first met to let you think she didn’t speak common, you took a deep breath and hoped what you were about to do was the thing she was waiting for.

You turned to look Zhulgan directly in the eye, “What do I say?”

She looked down at you for a moment. If she was surprised by you suddenly speaking orcish, she didn’t show it, only subtly nodding for you to speak.

“Chief Zhulgan is in charge of this caravan,” you told Aubron quietly, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the soldiers and wondering where Alkgan was, “I am traveling with them.”

“What about the other girl we saw? Is she traveling with you as well?”

You inwardly groaned, hoping he didn’t ask to speak to Rose as well.

“Yes.”

You thought that would be the end of it, but the general was seemingly undeterred by your curt responses - or driven to investigate your apparent discomfort further and continue to address you alone.

“If you require an escort within the kingdom, I can spare some of my men with you girls wherever you need,” General Aubron offered, clearly thinking his offer magnanimous as he stressed the word ‘spare’, “Surely you would rather come with us?”

“No thank you,” you said without hesitation and you believed firmly.

The unease you felt from the beginning of your interaction with the soldiers was validated further the more the general persisted in trying to get you alone, taking a step forward every time you took a step back. You wanted nothing more than to snap at the man, already telling him in no uncertain terms that you would not leave the orc caravan with him, but you feared it would only cause more trouble should he take offense.

Unfortunately, General Aubron took your politeness to mean you could be swayed, his overbearing demeanor leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Well, we should ask your companion, at least, perhaps she would-”

“She said no,” Zhulgan finally intervened, stepping in front of you once she finally had enough of the circles the conversations was running around.

Aubron’s concerned facade slipped for a moment as his mouth twisted into a scowl as he finally faced Zhulgan for the first time. You shuddered to think what chance you had without the imposing figures of the orc raiders to back up your repeated refutations.

“We are here to protect the people of Dumir. She should come with us, not brutes,” he said, attempting to sidestep Zhulgan with an arm stretched out for you.

You felt your skin crawl, as though his advances were literal grime sticking to you. You wanted nothing more than to run away, slap his hand away from you or whatever you had to to keep him away.

You thought back to the market. If there were soldiers stationed as close as Barba, why would the vendors remain out in the country? When the meat vendor spoke at length about hating soldiers, you had assumed she had been referring to the enemy, but she had never elaborated, so perhaps… You wondered how much longer it would take Vulgud to get the wheel fixed. And where the hell was Alkgan?

Zhulgan growled, the heavy rumbling like thunder you were so used to hearing in jest among orcs now sounding like a true threat. Relief washed over you as the very sound made the general stop dead in his tracks; so much so, that before she could speak, you did, emboldened by Aubron’s sudden fear.

“I have said multiple times now that I won’t go with you,” your voice shook for a moment, but the more you went on, the more confident you grew, “I am crossing the orc lands and you cannot help me with that! Frankly, even if you could, your insistence has ruined any chance you had of me trusting you - and for that matter, why are you stationed here? My home and countless other villages have been razed in the south and yet we’ve not seen a single soldier until now! What have you been doing while people were dying or being taken prisoner? Is that what you call protecting?!”

You were breathing heavily by the time you finished, blood rushing in your ears as your short-lived satisfaction morphed into the grim realization that Aubron was now glaring daggers at you. Guilt consumed you for giving in to your anger - not for Aubron’s sake, but for creating more problems that Zhulgan would have to deal with.

“Think carefully, human,” Zhulgan said, causing your head to immediately snap up to look at her, not realizing that she wasn’t speaking to you until you saw her focus was directed towards Aubron, “We have done you and your king a favor by taking out a foreign platoon, but my warriors want to return home now; I cannot stop them from stomping out any pests that stand in their way.”

Aubron’s nostrils flared in anger, his features contorting even further into pure rage. For a few tense moments, nobody moved. Just as you began to worry his pride would win out and he would challenge the orcs, he turned, barking for his men to turn back to Barba.

As soon as the horses disappeared in a trail of dust, you deflated with relief, relieved of the tension that kept your back straight throughout the entire encounter. You immediately began to take off to check on the others only for Zhulgan to grab your arm.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized immediately, believing Zhulgan was upset with you for blowing up as you had, “I shouldn’t have said those things. It could have made him attack or go get reinforcements but I just- I hated how he was so arrogant and all the soldiers… and when he called you brutes—!”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not angry with you,” Zhulgan interjected, “He was the one in the wrong. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”

You nodded, twisting your head around when you heard Mauve and Winnie calling you. Zhulgan let you go just as you began to race over, resisting the urge to break down when everyone else jumped out of the wagon questioning you about what happened.

“Rose wouldn’t tell us anything,” Mauve huffed, worry etching across her features despite her attempt to sound neutral.

“Dumirian soldiers,” you said, too breathless and tired from the unpleasant run-in to adequately explain all the emotions you felt, “They- they were insisting I let them escort us.”

“Why didn’t you agree?” Grace cried out, pushing her way to the front of the group, “They could have taken us somewhere safe - still in Dumir! We wouldn’t have to cross the orc lands!”

“I-” you hesitated, the reasoning for your rejection feeling inadequate now that you were trying to explain it to those that weren’t there. The general had asked if you needed help? Insisted on being of assistance to you? You were doubting yourself, wondering if it was just the armor that made your mind twist innocent intention, “I don’t know how to explain it… I didn’t get a good feeling from the general-”

“Quiet, Grace!” Mauve hissed, rounding on the girl, “We all made this decision a long time ago - it’s safest to get out of Dumir until the war’s over.”

“Please,” Grace retorted, refusing to back down even facing down Mauve, “We haven’t even seen any more enemy soldiers! For all we know, the war’s already as good as over! Or at the very least, not here.”

“Stop it,” Rose said, stepping in between both girls, “If she thought it was safer to go with them, then we would have gone- right?”

All eyes turned back to you. You nodded, trying once again to explain, “they only saw me and Rose. I did turn the general’s offer down immediately - but then he kept insisting. When Zhulgan told him to respect my decision, he got angry. Called the orcs brutes and then tried to follow me when I tried to get away.”

There were some noises of indignation, Grace’s indignation swiftly leaving her and Winnie in particular appeared the most upset. Your hand found hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“He probably didn’t know,” Grace said softly, though it seemed like a weak attempt to convince herself than you or the others.

“No… he was beyond reason. If there wasn’t an entire caravan of orcs behind us, I’m afraid he might not have taken no for an answer. And- at the market- one of the vendors at the market told me about the soldiers - they’re the reason they moved outside the city limits. They aren’t good people.”

“See?” Mauve said, “I knew there had to be a good reason.”

Any further bickering was interrupted by Derdig, informing the group that Vulgud had replaced the wheel and that the caravan would be moving on. You were relieved, wanting to put as much distance as possible between everyone and the soldiers.

When sundown came, the caravan pressed on, not stopping to camp until the next afternoon. To make up for lost time, Derdig had assured the whining children, but you knew the truth. Zhulgan also wanted to get far away from Barba.

Zhulgan had stopped relatively close to a stream, most of the caravan taking the opportunity to do laundry, everyone stripping down to what they were comfortable with and washing their clothes. You were helping make the food, so you weren’t able to go yourself until the sun was hanging low on the horizon. You sat a good ways upstream from the camp, wearing only your nightgown as you scrubbed your undergarments with soap and a vigor you were too embarrassed to display within anyone’s eyeshot, even if it was already dark.

Unfortunately, the necessary movement also made your hair fall into your eyes no matter how often you swept it back. Your only option was to work quickly, your tunic and pants already back at camp hanging.

Your hair had gotten substantially longer; your mother likely would have had you sitting down in the kitchen for a trimming by now. Your brother as well if she could catch him. Those were the moments you missed the most, small things about the present reminding you of the past. When the caravan had stopped near a beach, all the children had leapt at the chance to go swimming; your brother would have definitely been there to hoist them up and toss them into the water, just like he used to do in the large lake near Ozryn in the summers.

Your melancholy manifested itself as frustration, throwing your sock down on the rock you perched yourself on. You bunched your hair with your soapy hands and held it there for a minute, willing it to suddenly stay in place - an attempt to distract yourself from the tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

A twig snapped form across the stream, your name a quiet question. When you looked up, Zhulgan was standing there.

You smiled sheepishly, looking back down so you could discretely wipe your eyes with the material of your sleeve.

“Sorry, my hair was annoying me,” you forced out a laugh, incredibly conscious of how you appeared to the chief.

“I can braid it for you,” Zhulgan quietly said, continuing when you said nothing, “get it out of your way.”

You blinked slowly, not sure if you heard her proposal correctly. You chewed your bottom lip, uncertain if you were reading too much into the offer. Your interactions with the orc chief had been limited since your two groups began traveling together, and yet after a single night the two of you had… you had no idea whether you should take the advance as a proposition to continue what you had started or simply take it at face value.

You found yourself nodding despite not reaching any conclusion, scolding yourself for the giddiness you felt at the prospect of being so close to Zhulgan again as you gathered your clothes and wrung them out one final time before crossing the stream. Zhulgan sat on the ground, procuring multiple hair ties from her pocket. You realized she had come prepared with a small smile you quickly hid as you sat with your back to her.

“Get closer,” she said and you scooted back a few inches, not having the nerve to get as close as you wished even with the knowledge that Zhulgan had sought you out after your brief comment about your broken hair tie.

Instead of taking your hair, Zhulgan’s hands gripped your sides and easily maneuvered you in between her thighs, eliciting an undignified squeak from you. You quickly looked along the stream to confirm no one had wandered from camp. You began to fidget, too engrossed in the proximity to realize you were making it impossible for Zhulgan to grab your hair.

Finally, she placed a hand on your shoulder, her breath fanning over the shell of your ear as she told you to sit still. You froze immediately, not daring to so much as exhale as you waited for Zhulgan to begin.

“Breath,” she said, and though you were facing away, you could have sworn you could hear a smile in her voice.

You exhaled, feeling slightly lightheaded with the rush of air finally entering your lungs. At last, Zhulgan’s hands ran down the length of your hair, working out the tangles from the kids’ earlier attempts from the tips upward.

“Should’ve brought a brush,” she noted, your eyes sliding shut as her nails scraped along your scalp.

You could only hum in response, Zhulgan extracting her fingers once she found a knot and slowly pulling it apart by hand, surprisingly gentler than you expected the warrior to be.

“Thank you, for your help,” you eventually said, “I didn’t get the chance to thank you for protecting me at the time.”

Zhulgan made no reply and you had to resist the urge to lean back into her as her fingers deftly maneuvered the locks she partitioned into a single plait along the top of your head and down towards your neck. It felt good after so long of sleeping on a moving wagon or the ground, especially with the large bruise on your back from the earlier abrupt stop.

Though you couldn’t see the work in progress, you had faith Zhulgan would make it flawlessly, seeing how she did her own hair every morning. Perhaps it was because of her position, but she had by far the most intricate braiding amongst the orcs, which made you curious.

“Can I ask why you left the braid I did?”

Zhulgan tensed, you head snapping back slightly as she tugged your hair in the process, your sleepy, relaxed state doused with ice water.

“Sorry,” she apologized immediately. You waited a moment for her answer, but she simply focused on getting back to your braid. Before you could apologize for the question and give up on getting an answer, she spoke again, “For orcs, to braid someone’s hair is… an important gift. It is not something to be changed lightly.”

You twisted around, shocked, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! I wouldn’t have offered if I-”

“It’s alright,” Zhulgan said, and from her soft tone, you were inclined to believe her, “I accepted your gift, remember?”

And, after turning your head back around and feeling Zhulgan comb out the partial braid and start over, you realized she was right. Zhulgan would have had no trouble turning you down. However, you now had the question of what exactly was the implication of you braiding her hair - and her returning the favor. “If I had known you would leave it, I would have done a better job…”

Zhulgan laughed. It was not as loud as Alkgan but you still you felt a sense of accomplishment - even if you weren’t trying to be funny with your sincere statement. You smiled, deciding you liked the sound.

“You can redo it after I’m done,” she promised once she composed herself, reworking the braid with experienced fingers. You wished you didn’t have to sit still, wanting nothing more than to look back and decipher her expression - was she serious or still teasing? She had just shared with you how important the act was and yet still wanted you to do it again, now armed with the knowledge that it is important.

When Zhulgan finished tying off the braid, she leaned forward, seemingly checking to make sure it was all in place. However, instead of leaning back once she was finished examining her work, she pressed her lips to the base of your neck where it met your shoulder.

You gasped, feeling Zhulgan’s hand envelop your midriff and pulling you closer until you were surrounded by her. You leaned into her warmth easily, your head falling back onto her shoulder, exposing the column of your throat for Zhulgan to kiss. You turned your head to meet her kiss, whimpering as you felt Zhulgan fist the fabric of your nightgown over your stomach, lifting it above your knees.

“Want me to touch you?” Zhulgan rasped, her voice alone making your muscles clench in anticipation.

“Your braid…” you think you meant it as a question, but it was hard to even remember if you were talking about the braid Zhulgan had made or the braid you did when Zhulgan’s fingers touched your bare belly, not moving any lower.

“I can stop, then,” Zhulgan hummed, beginning to pull away until your hand flew from its perch on her thigh to catch her retreating hand and weaving your fingers with hers. Your significantly smaller digits strained almost uncomfortably to reach, but you still held tight.

“What if someone sees?” You whisper, unable to resist planting another kiss on the upturned edge of Zhulgan’s mouth despite your concern for the camp only a hundred meters away.

“It’s dark,” Zhulgan said, feeling her hand move down your soft belly before her fingers ran along the edge of your curls. The pads of her fingers following the crease of your thigh to bring your leg over her own, brushing up your slit before urging your other leg to follow suit.

Despite the humidity, you could still feel a breeze, making you shudder even before Zhulgan’s middle finger found your exposed bundle of nerves, your toes curling and thighs tensing as your hips pushed themselves into her touch.

“I hated how he spoke too you,” Zhulgan suddenly admitted, her hand dipping lower to brush against your slit and the other pressing on your sternum, “Ignored you when you said no… Wanted to kill him where he stood- shut him up forever.”

You appreciated the sentiment, but the last thing you wanted to think about with Zhulgan’s hand in between your thighs was General Aubron. Still, you allowed Zhulgan to work out her frustration, content to focus on the thick finger teasing your entrance, the blunt tips of her nails sending electricity up your body. Suddenly, it pushed inside you to the base, first cursing then writhing when Zhulgan’s thumb continued to rub rough circles around your clit.

Zhulgan’s hand was obviously larger than yours, but it did little to prepare you for the sheer difference in size, your walls flexing to try and accommodate. It took all you had just to moan her name, Zhulgan’s palm slapping over your mouth before you could cry out once she began to move, the rapid motion of her wrist making slick sounds.

“So tight,” Zhulgan panted into your skin, tusks scraping over your back as she moved to rest her chin on your opposite shoulder, struggling to get another finger inside to join its neighbor, “Sweet girl.”

You wanted to explode, drowning in Zhulgan’s embrace - overwhelmed with the heat and the chance of being caught at any moment, on display for all to see in your current position. Eyes rolling back as a second finger joined in pushing your towards the edge, tipping over it once you felt the stretch of both digits scissoring apart. In an attempt to stabilize yourself as your hips involuntarily spasmed around Zhulgan’s hand, you were vaguely aware of the orc chief babbling words of praise in your ear, a long whine escaping you instead of all the words you wanted to say racing in your mind.

You were too tired to protest being lowered to the ground after your climax, Zhulgan’s temporarily missing warmth almost unbearable for the moment it took her palms to leave your sides to slowly parting your legs once again, her thumbs opening you for the long stripe licked with her tongue. You gasped, your legs instinctively jolting with oversensitivity only for Zhulgan to hold you still, nuzzling your thighs and continuing to eat you out - licking you clean, you realized as you slowly felt the overwhelming feeling subside only to feel the pleasure build back up again.

“I think I messed up the braid already,” you panted once Zhulgan finally sat back up on her haunches, somehow managing to sit up and crawl with your noodle legs onto her lap, your fingers lacing into hers as you brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

“Hm. No, I make mine to last, unlike you,” Zhulgan said, and it took you a shocked moment to realize that she had made a joke at your expense. Once your shared laughter subsided, you sat together in a comfortable silence, head tucked comfortable underneath Zhulgan’s chin, feeling the strong heartbeat reverberate in your skull, neither one of you willing to part and return to your separate wagons just yet.

“I can feel you thinking,” Zhulgan’s voice was a rumble in her chest, a reassuring sound if she wasn’t trying to get you to talk.

“So what now?” You finally dared ask, voice low and uncertain, reluctant to bring reality back to shoot you down from your emotional high. It brought a sour taste in your mouth, worry creeping its tendrils into your thoughts.

You can do my braid again… or we can just go to straight to my wagon,” Zhulgan hummed.

“Hilarious,” you sneer, but your attitude only seems to amuse Zhulgan, her entire body shaking with her laughter, forcing you to cling to her until it faded once again, “I meant- in the future. How- what will we…?”

Zhulgan sighed, “I know what you meant.. We both have people we are responsible for. I cannot ask you to forget about your responsibilities just as you cannot ask me to forget mine-”

You nodded, burying your face in her neck.

“-But we have time still to get to the orc lands, and more to cross them, and if you need to earn more coin for wherever you go next… you can stay.”

You felt your eyes moisten ever so slightly. Longer, you know she means, but for the moment, you can pretend.

“I think… I want to go to your wagon,” you whispered, glancing up and meeting Zhulgan’s grin for just a moment before you found yourself being lifted with her as she stood, her strong arms supporting you even as you clung to her.

“Wait, my clothes!” You cried out, wriggling out of her grasp for a moment to grab your forgotten undergarments, feeling her stare as you bent down to gather the articles of clothing.

When you stood back up, Zhulgan was behind you, her hands running along your sides. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to lean back into her. For the moment, you decided, you would simply enjoy the happiness blossoming in your chest, lose yourself in the moment.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel quite so adrift, tethered by Zhulgan’s arms if only for the moment.

#exophilia #reader insert #monster girlfriend #orc #smut #not sfw

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 1

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to help each other out by pretending to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: You reconnect with George during a friendly game of spin the bottle.

A/N: This concept was inspired by one of my favorite 90s teen movies, Drive Me Crazy (which everyone should watch btw). I wrote this a few years ago and recently re-worked. This is part 1 of 8! Enjoy :)

                                                         X

“1…2…3…4…” you heard Fred calling. You took off at a run to find your spot. You were playing hide and seek, like you always did at these reunions. The Burrow was the best venue for hide and seek because there were so many great hiding spots, both inside and out. Fred and George seemed to be the best at this game, but you had one secret spot where no one could ever find you. You ran down the stairs quickly, hoping you wouldn’t be heard or spotted. Your parents were in the sitting room with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for the roast to finish and you tip-toed to the one area where you shouldn’t have been, the kitchen. It was an unspoken rule that the kitchen was off limits when Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner, but you were never one to follow rules. You heard the adults talking in the other room and knew you had a very limited window to get situated. You opened the cabinet under the sink and went to climb in when you realized there was already someone in there.

“Hey! This is my spot!” you whispered, still trying to keep your cover.

“Well too bad, I was here first,” he spat back. 

“READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Fred called. Your eyes went wide in panic and you shoved yourself into the cabinet.

“Slide…over…” you said as you dug your elbow into George’s side. You knocked over stacks of bowls and pans and you quickly shut the cabinet door hoping to muffle the noise.

“I can’t believe you took my spot,” you grumbled.

“Your spot? I don’t see your name on it,” he teased. You smacked him and he winced. “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Shh…you’ll give our position away.” You heard footsteps coming across the tile floor and held your breath. 

You sat there for what seemed like hours, whispering insults back and forth and laughing about stupid things. The hardest part about sitting there was that dinner was starting to smell amazing. It was torturous. That was the downside to having a great hiding place; you were stuck there until you got found.

“Okay, I give up. You guys win. Just come out now,” you heard Fred calling.

“Should we?” you asked George.

“Nah. It’s more fun this way.”

By this point all of the kids were looking for you both, and maybe even the adults. It was hard to tell for sure, considering you were curled up in a cabinet, but you could hear lots of footsteps and your names being called repeatedly.

“Kids, come for dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called.

“What about now?” you asked George, thinking that the seekers would stop looking for you the minute their eyes caught sight of the meal. 

George shook his head no and you trusted he knew what he was doing. “Just wait for it…” he whispered.

As if on cue, both the cabinet doors suddenly flew open. You had been caught. You then realized, it was Mrs. Weasley who had caught you and she had yet to notice two children were in place of her kitchen supplies. She was turned and was calling for the older boys to come and set the table. 

Slowly, very slowly, she turned around and bent down to tend to the cabinet. George’s face broke into a warm smile, knowing what was coming next.

“AAAH!” she shrieked upon seeing your childish figures cramped into such a small space.  You and George erupted into laughter at her reaction as everyone else scurried in to see what had happened. Mrs. Weasley was leaning against the counter, clutching her heart before she essentially beat you with a dishtowel to get you to come out.

“George! Y/N! What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley! We didn’t mean to. We were just playing hide and seek,” you spoke, innocently enough. Her mood completely changed and it was as if nothing was wrong.

“Well…alright. Go wash up for dinner,” she said. 

Fred approached the two of us, “That was brilliant. Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he said, giving you both high fives. 

Dinner was full of laughs and merriment as the two families conversed over a lovely meal. George sat across from you at the table and every now and then he would kick your shins and give you that evil grin of his. This was your relationship. You were essentially the second Weasley girl, and according to the twins you were more fun to torment because you could dish it back.

Dinner drew to a close, which meant you could continue playing again. The adults stayed and talked more over tea as you all made up imaginary games, pretending to be people you weren’t. Then, soon, your parents would call you and give you the twenty-minute warning, which always meant you were leaving in an hour. You would say your goodbyes like it was no big deal, but once you started heading home you grew infinitely sadder knowing you’d be playing alone until your next trip to the Burrow.

                                                              X

A lot of time had passed since the hide and seek days. Now, hide and seek was used when you were playing hard to get, which happened quite often now that you were a 5th year. You also didn’t see as much of the Weasleys as you used to. When you were younger, you would go over to the Burrow all the time. But now you only really saw them in passing at Hogwarts. You were still friendly, of course, but you had found yourself in a different friend group. 

Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time with the Ravenclaw’s largely because you were dating Roger Davies. You had started dating towards the end of your fourth year and things had been going great. You were particularly excited for the upcoming school year because they had announced the Triwizard Tournament.

The champions had just been announced and you were in  Room of Requirement, sipping a butterbeer and celebrating with a majority of the Hogwarts population.

“Here ye, here ye!” someone called out. Your attention shifted to the center of the room where the Weasley twins were making an announcement.

“As you all know, we are here for two reasons. One: to celebrate the success of our fellow Hogwartsians,” one of them spoke. The crowd cheered. Cedric’s friends clapped him on the back while Harry stood awkwardly in the corner with a handful of Gryffindors from his year. 

“And two is to have a bloody good time!” the other twin shouted. That statement was followed by even more applause. People clinked their butterbeer bottles together as the twins made a few more remarks to the group.

You mingled around the party for a bit, keeping your eye out for Roger who hadn’t seemed to arrive yet. After a few butterbeers, you stopped worrying so much about your boyfriend’s whereabouts. 

“Who wants to play spin the bottle?” you heard someone call. That certainly caught your attention. All the participants sat in a circle on the floor.

“What rules are we playing tonight?” Cho asked. 

Fred spoke next, “Spinner gets one spin. Whoever the bottle lands on can decide if they want one kiss in front of everyone or five minutes in the closet. You only get a re-spin if the bottle lands on yourself. And all wands in the middle of the circle. We don’t need any interference. Sound good?” Everyone nodded in agreement and the festivities ensued.

Since Cedric was the champion, everyone agreed to let him spin first. His bottle landed on Lavender Brown and she chose to enter the closet with Cedric. Cho looked pissed, as she had her eye on Cedric this year. The two emerged from the closet minutes later, Cedric looking sheepish and surprised and Lavender trying to hide the grin creeping up her face. 

You waited and waited for your turn, and you found yourself getting bored. You were about to leave the game and head to bed but then you heard your name.

“You’re up.” 

The bottle slid over to you and you decided you would leave after your turn was up. You held the glass bottle for a moment before placing it in the middle of the circle and giving it a good spin. The bottle was almost mesmerizing as it completed rotation after rotation before finally slowing down to land on someone. You slowly looked up to see who was at the receiving end of your spin and you internally cringed to see that familiar smile. 

“Alright Y/L/N, I will see you in the closet,” he said. Everyone ‘oohed’ like you were preteens as he stood up and made his way to the closet. You reluctantly followed, knowing this was your ticket out of here.

“Well if it isn’t my first girlfriend,” he smiled as you made your way through the door.

“You wish, George. We were six…it didn’t count.”

“That’s what you think.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Just so you know, nothing is happening in here. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah of course. Well how are things?”

“Things are going great between us. We’ve been dating almost-“

He cut you off, “I wasn’t asking about Roger. I was asking about you. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“We run in different circles, George. We aren’t kids anymore. We’re barely even friends.”

He clenched his heart, “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Well it’s true!”

“Just because we don’t hang out or talk doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumbled. 

“I bet I know more about you than your so-called friends, Cho and Marietta. In fact, I think I know more about you than Roger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Is that so? Prove it.”

“Well, I know that your favorite color is purple, your best subject is Charms, and you hate the cold but you love Christmas.”

“That is not that impressive. Roger knows all of that.”

George took a step closer to you, “Does he know that you secretly love watching Muggle movies, you’re ticklish on your left knee and that there’s a little star shaped mole just behind your ear.” He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and ran his finger right over the hidden mole. You looked up into his eyes and felt an unusual feeling that you weren’t sure how to define. For a moment, you thought you saw him leaning in towards you. He was going to kiss you and for some odd reason, you were going to let him. Just as your lips were about to touch he turned away as there was a series of knocks on the door. 

“I think our time is up,” you spoke softly. You slid from under his gaze and opened the closet door. “They all bolted…” you stated. The room was full of discarded cups and empty bottles, but no familiar faces to be seen.

“Filch or someone must’ve come by,” he said, “The knock was a warning.” You shrugged and without talking you made your way out of the room. “Heading back to Gryffindor tower?” he asked you. You had briefly thought about going to Ravenclaw tower to check in on Roger, but you decided against it.

The journey was silent, for the most part. Neither of you felt the need to talk. Just as you were about to turn a corner, George grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You turned back at him confused and he said, “Not that way, we’ll get caught. Filch is usually patrolling that corridor.” You gave him an unamused look, thinking he was just trying to make things difficult when he added, “Trust me.” 

You weren’t sure why, but you did trust him. You followed him down a dark hall that you’d never been down before. You hoped he knew where he was going. It was dark and you couldn’t see very well but you didn’t want to give away your position by using Lumos. Out of nowhere, George took your hand and helped guide you down the hallway. You didn’t really understand why he was being so nice to you. You had barely talked over the years, aside from the occasional family gathering. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pop of light. You looked up and the two of you were face to face with Professor McGonagall. 

“Professor,” he spoke.

“Mr. Weasley…Ms. Y/L/N. Is there a reason you two are out of bed past curfew?” she asked you sternly.

“Yes, but it’s not a very good one,” you said. You were toast. If it had been Flitwick or Moody you could’ve talked your way out of it, but McGonagall was too strict. You only hoped your punishment wasn’t too severe.

“Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor. Each. And you will report for detention later this week.”

“Yes ma’am,” George spoke.

“Now back to bed, both of you!” You scurried past her as you realized how close you were to the common room.

“So much for not getting caught,” you muttered.

“Hey, lay off it. I was trying to help,” he snapped. “Sometimes you can be such a bitch,” he added under his breath.  You weren’t expecting that, but you admittedly deserved it.

You reached the common room and you went in and immediately went up to your room. You curled up in bed and tried to sleep as best I could.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #weasley twins #fred weasley #fred and george wealey #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #hp fanfic #george weasley one shot #drive me crazy #weasley twins fanfic

[smallblip]

Come down when you’re ready.

Jeankasa | Pretty PG, they did the deed, but nothing explicit

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873656

“When this war is over, I would like to take you out.” Jean says. He thinks maybe he’s tired. That’s the reason he’s being so bold. He’s tired and he simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind his eyes.

“Where?” She replies, teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep. She chuckles, drawing self-conscious laughter from Jean. It’s silly. He’s spent so much time in his childhood thinking about bubblegum kisses and girls in babydoll dresses. They would hold hands, take a walk in the park, have ice cream, the works. But when it comes to her and the time he’s spent dancing with death, he’s slightly embarrassed at how frivolous they now sound.

But Jean remembers going to town for supplies in the Summer and watching the crowds near the riverbanks. And he remembers Mikasa watching the families on their picnic mats, something he reads as longing crossing her face. “A picnic?” He muses, “we could take a picnic basket to the markets in the morning, gather some food, head to the river...” He trails off, suddenly hyper aware of how he must sound. Like a fool throwing rocks at shut windows, serenading the winds. He bites the inside of his cheeks.

“What would you like to do?” Jean asks after a moment of silence.

Mikasa hums, “I haven’t really... Thought about it...” and she leaves it as that. Jean doesn’t push further, because her shoulders are tense, like she’ll scurry for cover if he does. They’ve been at this so long- this practiced dance, ginger steps balanced on tip toes- one wrong move and the lights come on.

Thankfully, she shifts a little closer to him, head on his chest, listening to the thrum of a heart through flushed skin- a heart that beats for her. Past the guilt, she allows herself to relax into the warmth.

Even though he knows her in ways only a lover would, even though he’s seen the curves and lines of her body, has trailed his palms over every scar, the proximity never fails to make his breath catch in his throat. There’s a squeezing in his chest and it’s becoming increasingly hard to tell if it’s love or the pain of knowing she’ll never love him back.

“I’m sorry...” she says, as if she hears the war in his mind. Her fingers pad over imaginary lines on his chest.

“It’s alright.” He replies without missing a beat. They’ve been through this before. Talked about it one too many times because she doesn’t want to hurt him or promise him more than she can afford. 

You know I can’t give you what you want, Jean... she had said when he had first undressed her. The reality of the situation settles in the pit of his stomach like sediment. But he had dreamt of this moment for years, since they were children, a little too curious for their own good. I know, he had said. I know, once more for his benefit.

But night after night, Jean asks if he can kiss her, and every time the answer is a breathless-

Yes.

So he night after night he peels back her skin like a lover, with shaking hands, painfully gentle. He hopes that he can take her mind off everything, off the hot sear of blood on skin, off the orders to kill and destroy and take, and off the boy with the green eyes. The rest of the world be damned. He kisses her until they’re both breathless and lightheaded because the feeling that blossoms in his chest is exquisite. The feeling of being impossibly close to her is exquisite. They are almost always gentle. After years of fighting, there’s little pleasure in brute force.

Mikasa you know how I feel about you. Jean says when they’re both slick with sweat, their hearts steadying. It’s for his own benefit. He doesn’t need to hear it back. He already knows the answer. This proclamation of love is one of the last things he owns on this mortal coil. He thinks about getting a cigarette, but he wonders what she would think about his new habit, if she would mind. So he doesn’t. He leaves the cigarettes to stolen moments by the trees, sometimes joined by Connie, sometimes by a sheepish Armin, sometimes by Hanji who never seems to have a stash of her own.

I know... And I’m sorry... she says. And Jean hates how she always feels the need to apologise. He wasn’t looking for an apology.

Nothing to be sorry about, he smiles, I just wanted you to know. He tells her again that he expects nothing in return. But a part of him feels sorry for himself. He thinks about the girls back when life had been simpler. Wonders about a future with them. But all he can picture is her raven hair, her porcelain skin, the blush on her cheeks, her brows set with the determination of a soldier.

In another life maybe... she says.

And Jean had understood what she had meant. He thinks about it now as he holds her flush against his chest, fingers stroking her arm absentmindedly.

Mikasa thinks she’s cursed. She has to be. Everyone she’s ever loved or cared about in her cursed life ends up getting hurt. The only boy she’s ever loved has pushed her away more times than she can count. Everything is clear now in the light. He’s never wanted her- will never want her. And soon they will have to kill him.

And yet Jean is here. He’s drifting off to sleep, she can tell. He’s breathing in a way that can only mean he’s only partially conscious. Mikasa allows herself to smile at the sight. And a part of her wonders why he stays, why he allows himself to hurt over and over. This life has given her nothing, and yet, there is beauty in the way Jean chuckles when she trips while pulling her trousers on in the morning, and he’s looking at her with such endearment that she almost thinks she could be the luckiest girl on earth. She would return a smile then, sheepish, hoping her inexperience with anything tender isn’t showing.

Jean on the other hand, has always been a natural. He tells her who she is when they’re making love, whispered sweetly in her ear-

you’re beautiful, Mikasa, you’re so beautiful.

He pulls her close even in sleep, he gives her his last piece of meat, he has saved her more times than she remembers.

Mikasa reaches tentative fingers to his face, cupping his cheek where stubble has grown, he’s a man now, features as handsome as ever. And she’s a woman. Her body taut from years of fighting, her breasts tight against her chest, and the softness around her hips fading. Sometimes she wonders what Jean sees in her still.

“You’re so good to me...” she whispers, half hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he does-

“My mother taught me well...” he winks, a try at suavity, but his eyes had widened from her hand on his cheek, and the tips of his ears have gone red. “You deserve it...” he says, quieter, so quiet that Mikasa almost misses it.

Your maman would hate me... Mikasa thinks. The cursed girl with the cursed life, everything withers under her touch. “She sounds lovely...” Mikasa says instead.

“She would love you.” Jean shrugs.

“Really?” Mikasa says, completely absorbed in how gentle his gaze is, her hand slips from his cheek to the back of his neck where she plays with the soft fuzz of hair.

He presses a chaste kiss on her forehead. “What’s there not to love?”

She laughs. Mikasa you’re so loved... her mother had said to her once when she had been a child, wide-eyed and innocent. Perhaps she is the luckiest girl on earth, she thinks, surprising herself with her sudden defiance.

“My mother...” Mikasa starts, hesitant. She never talks about her parents, not to anyone. So this is unfamiliar territory. “She would love you too...” Because she remembers the things her mother had told her about gentle boys, the ones who are patient, who will look at her like she’s treasure.

And Jean looks at her now, like she’s the best thing in the world- something amazing to behold, even though her hair is now cropped short and she has traded in her softness for callouses from gripping her blades- like treasure.

“Your dad... Would he chase me with a shotgun?” Jean attempts at humour and it works because she’s giggling. What a beautiful sound, bright like a bell.

“He’s a very good shot...” she teases, “but no... He’ll offer you some of the jerky he makes... I think... And if you tell him they’re good, you’re essentially family.”

“Jerky huh... Got it...” Jean says and Mikasa thinks this is nice. It’s nice to laugh and talk about the past, to talk about what ifs. It’s especially nice talking with Jean. He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t expect more of her than she can give. In fact, he doesn’t expect anything of her at all. It’s nice inhabiting this space with him, where a kiss on the lips can mean nothing or everything all at once.

So Mikasa pulls him down towards her and presses her lips against his. He deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers exactly the way she likes. And she pulls on his bottom lip the way she knows would drive him crazy. When they pull apart to breathe she can’t help but chuckle at the dazed expression on his face. Jean scoffs, but there’s no harshness behind the sound, he grins, ever so charming, and reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Mikasa thinks maybe she’s tired. That’s the reason she’s being so bold. She’s tired and she simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind her eyes. So she starts with-

“A picnic sounds nice...”

<part of a series>

#jeankasa #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #jean x mikasa #jeankasa fanfic #shingeki no kyojin #mine #my fic

[thgreatestblue]

false god [part II]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mention of prostituion, past trauma, smut, fluff (if you squint) ➜ words: 7.5k ➜ a/n: let’s start this hell of a year with a very long and spicy chapter, shall we? this is the second part of my fic false god, and i’m so excited to hear your thoughts for this chapter. thanks to everyone who left comments or likes, it made me so excited that now i’m already writing the third and final chapter!  ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part I] / false god [part III]

summary: The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now.

III.

The stars were brighter on this side of the country; there were an infinity of them, painting a beautiful pathway to heaven throughout the horizon. The sky was illuminated by their shine, in a space of time where they danced around the galaxy and lit up each corner of the universe, never letting darkness prevail. 

Or, it was just because you have been so afraid of the night for so many years, that only now you were able to fully appreciate its beauty. How the moonshine gleamed over the flowers and the petals seemed to sparkle tiny bits of stars over their form, so delicate you were afraid of touching — the white ones were your favorite, smooth like satin. 

Kokushibou’s house was in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere. The servants even had a special wagon and a few horses for when they needed to buy supplies. It was far away from the city noises; the chatting and the everyday life. Far away from the smell of cement and street food. From people; good and bad. From memories and dreams. From everything. 

It's been a few weeks since the first time you stepped into this world, one that was kinder than you expected. The servants were always calm, doing their tasks in such a peaceful motion that it was soothing to watch. It was a perfect mundane life, going to sleep covered in comfortable blankets instead of stick sweat, eating with others while talking without fear of being too loud. 

It was strange to think that everyday you caught yourself thinking this was a dream; because everytime you look at the flowers in the backyard, every time you felt the wind on your face and the warmth of the sun on your skin, you remembered of long lost dreams about having a normal life, hopes that were on the verge of dying, resurfacing in the deeps of your mind. It made your dreams a little bit happier, almost as if you were floating in a different dimension. 

The house had two floors; the first one is were the kitchen, the living room, the dinning room, and where the servant’s bedrooms were located — and even though when you lived with Muzan you had your own room, you didn't mind sharing with another girl if it meant to stay in this peace forever. 

The second floor though, you didn't know much about it. Only that it was where Kokushibou bedroom was, and where he spent most of his time, since he would only appear when the sun settled down. Sometimes you would hear heavy footsteps and noises of something being hit multiple times, so maybe it had a training room as well. 

You were on the second floor only a few times, most of them by his request — to ask you how things were going, if you were adjusting to the job. It was so unfamiliar, having a Demon, of all people, being so polite and thoughtful of your well being. You were definitely not used to kindness — to someone showing a minimum of respect — that everytime you would slightly blush, looking at his feet rather than his face. 

It was so out of your comfort zone, being treated like a human being. You sometimes had to laugh at how twisted your world had become to think that a simple “good morning!” from one of the servants was an act of generosity. One day you caught yourself tearing up as you watched the sunrise from the window. 

To what extent have you been broken? The pieces you always tried to put it back together now didn't seem to fit anymore; it was going to be a long way to find the right materials to build a new house for your heart, but at least you were given the chance to try. And if anyone had told you it was because of a Demon, you would have laughed. 

Kokushibou's presence was still heavy and unsettling for you. It still managed to keep you on your toes. Whenever he would appear from his bedroom, or even hearing his voice from another room, a red siren would go off in your mind. It was still a rooted fear you couldn't help feeling, no matter how much you repeated to yourself that everything was fine. 

His gaze on you didn't help the seed of doubt from staying rooted on your mind. Although the Demon didn't stay in the house at night — preferring going out and coming back only when the sun was about to show in the sky. However, on rare days when he chose to remain home, you would always try your best to stay far away; washing the dishes in the kitchen, feeding the horses, anything other than being at his company. 

It wasn't because you were afraid, not exactly, the old lady had said that in the beginning it was normal to stay alert when in his presence. It was something else. How his eyes seemed to always find its way to you, fixing on watching your movements from afar, traveling down your body when you were cleaning a room, or even when you were just standing next to him. 

You still remember how high you jumped one night when Kokushibou decided that it was a good idea asking for more towels for his bathroom by whispering in your ear. You’ve been dealing with Demons and men for so long in your life, it wasn't now that you were going to slip into wherever game he was playing. So, you tried your best to ignore those little things, moving on with your life as if his glance didn't make something crawl under your skin, begging to be scratched. 

As the night came and Kokushibou decided to stay inside, you found yourself in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner. There’s a beautiful song playing on the radio, and the sweet melody makes you lose track of time, lost in imaginary scenarios and charming tales. When you come back, the dishes are done. 

Taking a long look at the kitchen, you notice that there’s nothing else to do; which means that you would have to come to the living to see if Kokushibou wanted something else, or you could go to sleep. You take a deep breath, leaving the apron on the table as you walk towards the room. The song is still playing but the volume has been tuned down. 

Kokushibou is seated next to the bookcase, reading. He seems so peaceful and unharmful like that — if it wasn't for those pair of eyes, you would have never guessed he was a Demon. His hair is always tied up on a ponytail, and sometimes you can’t help but imagine how he would look with it down. You immediately shake your head, trying to erase those intrusive thoughts that have been more frequent by each day. 

“Kokushibou-dono.” 

As a habit, you bow to announce your presence. As you look around, you notice that there’s no one in the room besides him. Probably already too late in the night to have many servants around, you glance at the clock and it was indeed past midnight. Before you can say anything else, he closes the book, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

“Do you know how to dance, Y/N?” 

Saying that you were surprised by the question was an understatement. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out of it. Well, you did know how to dance, however, you highly suspect that it wasn’t that type of dance he was referring to. Your heartbeat starts to accelerate, something you were already used to when in the same room as the man.

“No, Kokushibou-dono,” Your voice sounds weaker than you intended, but that was another thing you were getting used to; apparently your body liked to react as a mess when in his presence, “I’ve never had the chance to learn.”

Kokushibou nods, getting up from the pillow he was seated on. And even after weeks, it was still mesmerizing to watch him move; how his hair would graciously swing from one side to another, his posture always so elegant and refined, even the way he walked was hypnotizing. He definitely was born as someone who belonged to a royal family. You wondered why, then. Why did he turn into a Demon if he was so skilled and polished like a real diamond?

“Follow me.” 

Before you can think too much about it, you follow him. Hands on your back, picking at your nails as anxiety starts to settle on your stomach; the odd feeling on your gut appearing from nowhere to poke at you, telling you to be careful and keep your eyes open. You watch him turn the volume a little bit higher.

“It gets easier once you learn the basics.” He says, looking at you from the middle of the room. The radio was playing a delicate melody that was perfect to put you to sleep, although right now not even the sweetest song would be able to calm you down. 

“… I don't understand.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to another.

“I’m teaching you how to dance.” Kokushibou simply explains, fixing the sleeves of his kimono with a serene expression; as if nothing was wrong, as if this was normal.

You hold your breath as he extends his hand in your direction. The look on his eyes is almost inviting if it wasn't for the fact that he was a Demon, and above everything else, your lord. There's a very fragile line Kokushibou is crossing by inviting you to dance, inviting you to be intimate with him. And you're not sure if you are ready to face the consequences — to take a step in a territory that he has been cornering you since the moment you arrived. 

However, like everything in your life, you don't have a choice. So, you release the air you were holding, pressing your lips together as each step in his direction starts to consume your entire body. Kokushibou's gaze is fixed on your face — if becoming a mess of yourself in front of him was one of your habits, his stare on you was one of his. 

You hesitate before touching his hand. His fingers brush against your palm, so delicate that you have to double remember yourself of your position, of who the man was. Kokushibou hands were rough and big against yours, but held your palm on his with a tender flow. You bite your lips as he grabs your other hand and puts on his shoulder.

Kokushibou hums with the song as his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back; the sound vibrates in his chest and through your skin. It was as if you were struck by lightning; every hair on your body standing with every touch. 

“It’s an easy six steps tempo, just follow my lead.” Kokushibou’s voice so close to your ears is sinful; it’s dangerous. His low tone always did things to your stomach, and you knew it wasn't because of fear. 

Kokushibou nods at you before taking a few steps around, leading your body to move with his own. He’s so close you can feel his heat, the ghost of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. It takes all of your will to not stare at his hand holding yours, your legs already having some trouble to work properly.

“I’m sorry...” You flinch as you step on his foot, but he doesn't say anything. 

It was quite an easy dance, and the way Kokushibou lead you made it even easier — if it wasn't for your nervousness it would have been almost fun. You watched his feet move from side to side until the rhythm was stuck in your mind, focusing on the dance instead of his body so close to yours - which was hard, every step making you come closer and closer. 

“Eyes on me.” Kokushibou whispers close to your ear. 

You immediately look up at him, his voice takes you out of the trance you had created to stay safe. And it takes only one look at him to make everything come crumbling down. The hand on your back brings you closer and your mouth slightly parts, breathing through it seems easier when his chest comes to touch yours. 

Kokushibou squeezes your hand lightly as your eyes travel down his face. Up close like this, you can see each detail, his title of Upper-Moon One carved on his eyes, the texture of his perfect skin, the intrinsic shape of the red marks adorning his forehead — he’s indeed a beautiful man with interesting features. 

It’s only when he hums again with the song that you realize you have been staring at his mouth for too long, a smirk growing at the corners of it is enough to shake you out of your trance; cheeks going warm and red in shame. Kokushibou presses a little closer to your body and you feel like combusting in flames with the feeling of his breath against your neck.

The song slowly fades away, and he continues to guide you as it finally comes to an end. Kokushibou gradually stops his movements, but still holds your hand, maintaining you in place. And you don’t know what to do with yourself; standing in the middle of the room with his stare still pinning you down, the touch of his rough hands still holding yours. 

“Thank you, Kokushibou-dono.” It takes all of the strength left in your body to pull back, taking a few step backwards. 

You are the first one to move and break the little bubble you two created. Kokushibou nods, letting you go from his hold. The weight of his hand still linger on your back, a ghostly feeling that you knew wouldn't go away that easily, if ever. 

“Good night.” You could only hope your voice wasn’t trembling as much as you were on the inside.

You bow, turning around and making your way back to your room. Trying your best not to run from his gaze, form his touch, from everything that had happened in the past few hours. 

With your heartbeat on your throat and the phantom feeling of his body still pressed into yours, you scream into the pillow until fatigue comes to take over you — putting you out of your misery, for now at least.

IV.

You could complain as much as you wanted, but Kokushibou’s home was so much better than Muzan’s. The opportunity to stay in the sun in the morning, feel the breeze hitting your skin as you washed the bedding in the backyard, the warm of the sun on your skin everyday even helped gaining a little more of color. As the summer went by; the sight of rain gracing your eyes, birds flying around the field with their beautiful singing, you realized how deprived you’ve been from simple things. 

For 3 years you had stayed in the dark, almost never leaving Muzan’s house — surrounded by darkness and the metallic smell of blood, with no friends to help you when the nights were too scary. The only thing you liked was the sounds of the city, but even that became a nightmare, to think that there were so many victims in a single place would give you so much anxiety. 

Even though Kokushibou was still a Demon, this was a far cry from the place you were just a few months ago. You couldn't say it was the best option though, you were still involved with a supernatural being that could easily kill you in a blink of an eye. The only difference was that he did seem to respect who worked for him — and an extra interest in you. 

Taking another bite of a very sweet apple, you swing your leg casually, humming a random song while you were sitting on the big porch at the back of the house. The yard extended until it reached an infinity of trees, covering your view of the pond a few minutes from the house. You had heard it was a beautiful place, but havent had the time to go yet. 

“Y/N, Kokushibou-dono is calling for you.” The old lady calls you from the window. You silently nod, taking a long breath before looking at the sky. 

It had been a few weeks since he invited you to dance; since he had touched you in such an intimate way that no lord should be touching his servants. The odd sensation still lingered in your gut, but the feeling of his firm body against yours, his big and strong hand on the small of your back, the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips inches from your neck… Gods, it was enough to send you to a place where you wouldn't be able to come back even if you tried; already lost in those six eyes all over again. 

It has been a tough task to pretend that the small moment didn't affect you. The aftertaste stuck in your tongue like the sweetest apple you’ve ever eaten, and you hated to see yourself in such a state. Everytime he would enter a room, every time his eyes stared at you, hearing his voice… Your body would tense, goosebumps spreading through your body, but this time not because of fear. 

No man has ever had this impact on you, and you’ve been with quite a lot of them. 

It was still afternoon, the sun shining in the sky was a sight you would never take from granted again. What does he want with me now? You ponder, thinking about the last time he had asked for you. You were supposed to just hand him the ink, but of course he had to touch your hand for a little bit too long while grabbing it. 

What Kokushibou wanted from you was something you could only imagine, there was nothing predictable about him. But if you dared to listen to the odd feeling in your gut, you knew exactly what it was going to happen — you were just denying it at this point. 

Throwing away the rest of the apple, you make your way upstairs with your heart in your throat. Each step closer to his bedroom felt like an eternity, the hallway seeming like an endless corridor while the tension building up in your muscles were making your body ache. Stopping by his door, you run your hand through your hair; fixing the few strands that had escaped from your bun behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm down your nerves before knocking on the door.

There’s a small pause before you can hear the sound of a chair dragging just a little across the floor, you can practically feel the expectancy choking you as you hear him stepping closer. You bite down your bottom lip right at the moment Kokushibou decides to open the door.

“Kokushibou-dono, how can I help you today?” You try to sound as casual as possible, trying your best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before meeting your eyes. 

“Come in,” He says, walking back inside his bedroom, “And close the door.”

A strong chill runs down your spine and you have to strain yourself from quivering; a thin layer of sweat is forming on the palm of your hands, but you quickly clean it on your clothes. There was no use to be nervous right now, you were already at the predator’s door, head right inside his mouth, just waiting for its teeth to sink on your neck and break it. 

Kokushibou's presence brought another type of nervousness, one that left you shaking from head to toe; but instead of cold settling in your stomach, it was pure fire consuming your entire being. 

As you step inside, closing the door with your back, you take a quick look at the room. It’s fairly simple and definitely what you expected; a big and expensive futon is placed right in the middle, the bedding is clean and tidy up — something he probably never uses but keeps it as a habit. There’s two paper lanterns at each side of the futon, the light coming from them is minimal, leaving the room with a somewhat cozy atmosphere. 

You see him standing beside a table by the corner of the room. There’s a few books piled up at one side, a wooden tray with a few bottles and glasses on the other. He picks one of the bottles and pours himself a glass, filling just half of it. 

The liquid is thick and dark; you can’t see what it is, but you have an idea — Muzan used to drink blood in front of you all the time, and you always wondered when he would want to drink directly from a source. Then, he picks another bottle, and pours another glass. The liquid seems more diluted and a shader brighter, this time the smell hits your nostrils; it’s wine. 

Kokushibou grabs both of the glasses, and holds one in your direction. He looks calm and collected; there’s no room to interpret his actions, his features never giving away what he was really thinking. The light hits one side of his face, the other is half hidden by the shadows, but it’s clear how all of his eyes are staring at you, his hair is in a perfect ponytail, swinging perfectly as he moves to hand you the glass.

“...Thank you.” Fingers brushing against yours, you take the glass. 

Your gut screams something you can’t seem to hear; it seems like your mind went numb the moment you entered the room — not listening to any of the alarms that went off in your head. You can only feel your stomach tossing and turning around as you watch the man leaning on the table, studying you from behind the shadows like a predator plotting how to kill its prey.

“Before working for Muzan-sama, you worked at Yoshiwara.” Kokushibou says in a low tone, taking a sip of the drink.

Immediately, your cheeks burn. You clench your jaw as the sour memories start to come back from the deepest of your mind. He wasn't asking a question, it was rather a statement - and you had a few ideas how he got that information. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a long sip of the wine — and for the first time you’re glad that he decided to give you the beverage.

“I worked for Daki for some time,” You tell him, feeling the bitter taste in each word, “She introduced me to Muzan after I kept my promise of not telling anyone about her.”

It wasn't something you were proud of, not in the slightest. You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You had been so close from dying that night that anything else felt so little, compared to facing a Demon with a bloodlust so high that you couldn't count how many bodies you had seen that night. 

However, it was covering up that atrocity, or dying. And you didn't want to face what afterlife had in store for you that soon. So you begged and cried, and like a miracle, Daki gave you the benefit of the doubt. After that, it only took 5 months from that incident for you to come work at Muzan’s house; selling your fate once again. 

“So you did work at a brothel, didn't you?” His fingers tap the wooden table and you have to hold yourself still, trying not to shrink under his words. He stops the glass midway from his mouth, choosing to drink your reaction instead. 

You did work as a prostitute, didn't you?

The silent question hangs in the air, you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth, to move. It was quite clear that he knew everything about you, there was no need to lie or hide any information, it would only piss him off. 

However, the fact that he was making you say it - confirming the fact himself — was something that felt a bit degrading. You finally nod, not being able to find your voice anymore. Then again, it wasn't something you were proud of — apparently, you weren't proud of anything in your life. 

Kokushibou slowly takes a sip of his drink then, eyes traveling down from your face to your body; studying every inch of your being. And every single part his eyes gazed upon, it would set your skin in flames, until you were combusting in anticipation.

“Show me.”

Your heart stops beating for a second only to come back at full force; and it hurts your chest, the impact leaves your rib cage aching at each pound of your desperate heart.  

“...I beg your pardon?” You had to ask, you probably heard it wrong and this was your mind playing tricks with you, you knew how twisted it could get. There was no chance that Kokushibou was asking you to...

“I told you to show me,” He says in a challenging tone, raising an eyebrow, “Or did you lose your touch?” 

Suddenly, everything falls into place.

The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now. 

All those long stares, the need to touch your skin every time he had the chance, the dance… Everything was just small steps he was taking, leading you to a direction he had in mind since the beginning. Building you up for this moment; so you wouldn't hesitate, so you wouldn't run away; afraid of what might happen.

Kokushibou wasn’t a stranger asking for your services, not anymore. Because you had had a taste beforehand, because he had built you up into someone who would want him as much as he apparently wanted you.

The worst part was: it worked.

“What if i don't want to?” 

All your life you were never given an option. It was selling your body or dying in the streets. It was waking up everyday knowing that you were covering up dozens of murders, or being murdered by the hand of a Demon. It was hearing screams of agony as you laid your head on the pillow, or being the one devoured. It was never what you wanted, but what you needed to do to survive. However, for this you needed to have a choice.

“Then, you can turn around and leave.” He says with no heat in his voice, motioning towards the door.

For some twisted reason, now that you truly knew what he wanted from you all this time, you relaxed. The tension left your bones as your mind processed his words. Your gut didn’t scream anymore, the pitch of your stomach now was filled with another type of warmth. 

Kokushibou was a beautiful man, and somehow you knew this wasn't going to be bad. Not when he could have just pushed you in a room and had his way. Probably it was his pride not letting him act so animalistic, choosing to have a partner that was on the same page; reciprocity.

You finish the rest of the wine in one single gulp, letting the drink burn down your throat. 

Approaching him, you sensually bite your bottom lip, letting the glass on the table before slowly getting down on your knees — if you were really going to do this, then you would put on a show. 

Feather touching his thighs, you leave a few soft kisses on his crotch over his clothes, he hums in response, watching you closely as you grow bolder with open mouth kisses, feeling his cock respond to the stimulus through the thin fabric.

Kokushibou licks his lips, glass long forgotten by his side — you had his full attention now. His hands were gripping at the side of the table as he watched you; and you made sure to watch him back, each moment caught by your eyes; two could play this game. As soon as you start to untie the knot of his hakama, his hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb caressing it while the other fingers wrapped around your neck. 

You tease at first, lapping and sucking sweetly at his head, your hands squeezing at the base. His taste is strong and heavy on your mouth, a little bit salty but you don’t mind. You look at him between half open eyes, batting innocently your eyelashes at him. He groans low in satisfaction, as you feel his cock grow harder on your tongue. You think about keeping teasing him, but then he eagerly pulls your neck closer, and you swallow down his full length in a swift motion. 

It hits the back of your throat, and you have to fight back your gag reflex — it has been quite a while since you did this. He groans louder in approval, still rubbing your cheek while you swallow down his length again. Hands starting to move up and down, you fall into an easy pacing, bobbing up and down your head as you suck his cock, lips closed tight around it to give the right amount of pressure. 

Kokushibou's hand grips even tighter around your neck each time you swallow him down, tongue rubbing against his length. A little bit of saliva drips down the corner of your mouth and he cleans it with his thumb, running it over your bottom lip that is now red and swollen. You glance up at him, always trying to keep eye contact. 

His eyes start to fall half open, mouth slightly open, his breathing starting to become unsteady. You reach between his thighs to stroke his balls, and his moan vibrates through his body and you can feel it on your mouth. It makes you eager, sucking him harder, wanting to hear more of those sounds coming from him. 

And because you can’t help, you let your teeth slightly scrape along his cock. The sharp inhale Kokushibou takes is music to your ears. He grips your hair and pulls it as punishment, making you whine at the burning sensation on your scalp, but it’s worth it. 

The grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back until only the tip of his cock is inside your mouth. Then, he bucks his hips further; fucking your mouth in a ruthless pace. All you can do is take it, holding onto his tights as hard as you can, trying to not gag as he shoves his cock down your throat. You can taste his precum filling your mouth, heavy on your tongue. 

He pulls your head back again, and you release his cock from your mouth with a loud pop.

"That's enough.” He commands, voice low and rough that makes you shiver. You watch his cock stand against his stomach in full length, he’s big, “Now, undress.”

Before getting up though, you lick at the side of his cock, from the base to the tip, leaving a wet kiss at his head and Kokushibou groan resonates through his chest. He unties the ribbon that was holding your bun, and your hair falls loosely on your back. 

All of his six eyes are following your movements as you stand, fixed on each swing of your hips, each batting of eyelashes you throw at him. What once made you flinch, now is more than welcoming. It sets on your bones like a tender touch, sweet like honey as you savor all of his lust. Lust for you. 

You move your body sensually; throwing back your loose hair to show more of your neck, running your hands down your chest as each piece of clothing falls into the floor. Now that you knew exactly what to do — what he really wanted from you — it was so much easier to stay under his gaze without quivering, even when he started to lazily stroke his cock while watching you undress. 

When the last piece of clothing falls into the floor, you turn around, spinning on your heels. It had been awhile since you showed off your naked body to someone, the confidence that you had a few years ago decreased slightly, but seeing how Kokushibou was affected by the display — hand now stroking his cock faster — was enough to dismiss all the doubt starting to rise on the back of your mind. He has chosen you, after all.

You step closer, grabbing his kimono and sliding down his strong arms, tossing on the ground without batting an eye to see his reaction. At the first glimpse of his bare chest, your mouth waters. You knew he was strong, but hell, he was ripped. His body was so perfectly sculpted that you have to bite your lips to stop the small whine daring to escape your mouth. Your hands travel down his stomach, feeling the very defined muscles with the tip of your fingers. 

Kokushibou grabs your chin, his breath hits your skin like fire. It spreads down your body and you shiver from the ecstasy of his touch; there’s a certain expectation growing on your being, waiting patiently until the final moment when he decides to fuck you — and damn it your sanity for not wanting anything else right now. His eyes are locked on your lips, red and swollen from sucking his cock. He leans closer, but before he could meet your lips you pull back just a little bit.

“I don't kiss my clients.” Your voice comes out rasp, your lips brushing his. It’s an empty threat, however, you needed to tease him as much as you could before he fucked you out of your mind. 

“Good thing i’m not a client.” Kokushibou bites back, his grip tightens on your chin. 

He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you come crashing into his body. You moan as his muscles rub against your nipples; feeling his cock, hot and erected, on your belly sends a wave of warmth down your belly. He moves his hips, slowly rubbing his cock on your clit. You throw your head back a little, moaning. 

“No. You aren't, my lord.” You manage to say between small whimpers of pleasure as he squeezes your ass and grinds harder against you. 

He groans at your words, and not wasting any more time, devours your mouth. It’s rough and borderline desperate, slamming your lips together with no room to breathe, the warmth of his skin intoxicating your better judgment. His mouth is unforgiven, teeth pulling and biting your bottom lip between kisses. You gasp in his mouth and he takes that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside, yours coming to meet his, sliding against each other with desire on its tip. 

It’s dizzying the feeling of his touch on you, how he pulls your hair and runs his tongue on the seams of your lips. It clouds your head and increases your desire, making you rock against his body, your pussy pulses with desire, searching for some kind of relief from the tension building up on your lower belly. 

Kokushibou runs his lips down your neck, sucking then licking the spots he meets. It leaves you breathless, holding on his arms for dear life as he travels down your body and savors every single part of your tender skin. His tongue leaves trails of fire, marking each part with his saliva and brute carnal lust. 

Without any warning, Kokushibou bites down on your neck. It stings so much that you know it broke your skin, but you helplessly moan. It’s definitely going to bruise and it’s going to be ugly. But right now you don't care. He sucks the spot, drinking your blood as the best licor he ever had. 

Kokushibou sucks the sore spot again, making you whimper, before releasing you from his grip, pushing you away just a few inches so he could finish undressing the last pieces of clothing. And heavens, his body was even more perfect under the dim light coming from the lanterns; as the light casts shadows over his form, making the shape of his muscles sharper and defined. 

He puts both hands on your waist, motioning for you to walk towards the futon. Your heart beats faster on your chest. Kokushibou wasn’t a very vocal man, preferring showing what he wanted through actions. So, he pushes you, and you fall down on the soft surface with your legs open; his eyes immediately are filled with a different type of hunger, and you instantly can feel what he wants - though, this time, you wanted him to devour you. 

You hold yourself on your elbows as he kneels between your legs, and you can feel how wet you’re, though he didn't even do more than touch you. Damn, when did you become so desperate. You were already a mess, hair sticking on your forehead, breathing through your mouth because you can’t seem to make your lungs work anymore. 

Or maybe it was just him and his overpowering effect on you, like no one else ever did. 

His fingers hover over the delicate skin of your legs, traveling on the inside of your thigh in a feather touch that makes you whimper from how sensitive you are feeling from those small stimulations. You watch him from behind heavy lashes, his body in full glory over you should be a sin, it should be your salvation. 

How beautiful and desirable he was, standing in between your legs just like that, eating you out with just a gaze. You moan as you watch his body move, each muscle carved on his skin as a perfect work of art. Your eyes fall on his length and your pussy clench on nothing, wishing he would bury himself inside you already. 

“Turn around.” He commands in a low tone, leaning down and caging you in, hands fisted at either side of your head. 

Your breath gets caught up on your throat, suddenly he is so heavy above you that not a single thread of air gets on your lungs. You slowly nod, turning around so you would be lying on your stomach, then you push your hips backward, rubbing against his cock. The contact has both of you moaning. 

Kokushibou quickly grabs both sides of your hips to rub his cock between your folds, your head falls down between your shoulders as you moan desperately at his thrusts. His front is hot and firm against your back. But the way he’s teasing is tortuous; with slow drags of his length against your clit. It makes your whole body tremble underneath the pressure. 

“Kokushibou, please…” The pleading scapes your lips before you can process it. It makes your body burn in shame — never in years of working in the field you pleaded for someone. 

And you can feel how pleased he’s with himself when his mouth on your neck turns into a smirk. He bites down on your shoulder and you flinch, waiting for another wave of pain, but this time it’s gentle, still hard enough to leave a mark, though.

He positions his cock on your entrance, and you hold your breath, biting so hard on your bottom lip that you can taste blood. He pushes past your folds, pushing his way inside you so dangerously slow that has you moaning for more. You grip the sheets, knuckles going white. The burn that comes with him stretching you open is blinding, but you want more. 

You don’t know if he’s going slow on you because he wants to let you take your time to adjust to his size, or because he likes to see you plead for more. You try to push your hips backwards, to finally have his cock buried till the tip inside you, but he stops your movements with his strong hands, holding your hips in place. Yeah, definitely the latter.  

“Look at you, taking me all in with no struggle.” He purrs in your ear, still pushing half of his cock inside, “I’ll have to tell Daki that you are much more than what she sold you for.”

Your eyes grow wider with the confession, but before you can say anything, he shoves the rest of his length inside you and all the air is knocked off your lungs. He doesn't wait for you anymore, leaving just the very tip of his cock inside, then thrusting in you with enough force that has you tumbling over your arms, cheek buried in the sheets. 

Kokushibou falls into a rough rhythm, the sounds of skin on skin fills the bedroom as he slam his cock inside you, his nails digging deeper on your hips, biting down another spot on your shoulder. You moan, and then again, and again; each one louder than the other, not being able to hold back your voice with each drag of his cock. 

He deliciously stretches you open; the burning sensation fading away as pleasure overtakes it, your pussy clench around him, sucking him in. You thrust your hips to meet his movements, arching your back so your hips are higher, so he can go deeper. Every time he moans in your ear you feel yourself drifting from reality, mind clouded by the pleasure and by his voice. 

“Oh—nnh, harder,” 

With only his precum and your wetness easing his way, Kokushibou raw thrusts ruins you, making you feel each of them ten times more. The way he bites down on every inch of your body is animalistic, marking you all over. It’s going to be a pain to hide from the rest of the servants - but right now you can’t bring youself to think about that — asking him for more and more until you’re painted purple and blue. 

There’s no room to think, to breath. You were turned into a mess of whining and moans as he breaks you until there’s nothing left but your voice; hoarse, but surely screaming for him. He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling with the upcoming orgasm, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

Your knees almost give in, but Kokushibou holds your hips up, slamming inside you mercilessly, his moans starting to fill the room as well. The sounds coming from his thrusts are filthy and wet, but barely audible, your moans overtaking any type of noise. For once, you are grateful that this room doesn't have any windows, or else, everyone would’ve heard you by now — but you suspect that’s probably what he wants. 

“Aah, nnh, — K-Kokushibou!” You moan, not recognizing your own voice anymore.

Kokushibou cups your breast and squeezes harshly, dragging his nail over your nipple. You jerk away with the sting, but falls right back into his thrusts; it buries so deep inside you feel youself being torn apart, his cock throbbing inside meets the beats of your heart. Tears run down your cheeks, and he licks it as if he’s savoring each part of you that he can get. 

“You're a really one of a kind,” He whispers in your ear, biting down your lob, “And now, I have you all to myself.”

The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Kokushibou’s cock that he has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by the sheets as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

Kokushibou doesn't let you catch your breath though. He pins your head down, slamming into you fast and rough that you have to ride down your orgasm while he continues to fuck you. You whimper, over sensitive, but he doesn't stop, moaning a bit louder as his thrusts starts to become more desperate and erratic. 

He comes inside you with a guttural moan that has you shivering, it shakes you down to your core, hitting the deepest part of your being. You moan while his cum, hot and thick, fills you up. 

Even though you were oversensitive, he continues to ride his orgasm lazyly thrusting into you until it starts to become borderline painful. Now that the adrenaline is leaving your body, you can feel your back aches from the position, your bones are heavy and all you want is to lay down and catch your breath.

Probably sensing your distress, Kokushibou stops his thrusts; but stays inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to the side, so both of you could lay on the futon. He buries his face on your neck, and even though the feeling of having a cock inside you after you both came is odd, you decide not to mention it. 

Your eyelids are heavy, you’re tired and still drunk from the orgasm. Usually at this moment you would get up and leave, but since Kokushibou didn't say or made any movement to let you go, you decide it’s safe enough to fall asleep just like that.

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The New Doctrine.”

Things are heating up a little, and I hope you all enjoy. I will have you know that there was a bit of a time skip in here for Ramirez and Adam, and there are things that happened to them that I might go back and write at a later date.

But for now I am getting back to the Humans are Space Orcs theme, and I thank you for being patient while I went off on a tangent

The sun beat down through the caldera of the mountain, beating don on her skin, and the droplets of water that rolled down her skin in great streams. Water sloshed around her body, ankle dep and kicked up into the air by her swirling feet. The tip of her spear was bright with water, and the white moss around her was almost blinding, so she kept her eyes mostly shut, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of Naktan’s spear on stone timing out a rhythm for her, fight, a wild dance of imaginary foes an unseen enemies.

The heat of the sun was familiar, a friend to her after all these months fighting, and perfecting her craft under its rays and in all other weathers inclement or not.

She had fought when the rain thundered down and lightning roared overhead. She had fought when the wind roared, and when the ash fell out of season. She had fought during the day and during the night, illuminated by the blue flames of the mountain. She fought until she could fight no longer and then she moved past her exhaustion and continued to fight despite her weariness. 

She fought until there was nothing of her left but the repeated spear movements spinning through all four of her hands like a machine that was incapable of making a misstep.

When she was done fighting by herself she fought against Naktan, a warrior so skilled it seemed as if his hands were moved by forces beyond the world in which she stood. He fought as if his entire being was infused with the spirit of war itself. Time and time again she fought him until her bruised body lay on the moss and the dirt, unable to move and unable to think.

He would dress her wounds then, carry her away to a small grouping of coitrees at the back of the bason, where she would rest, and sleep the sleep of the dead. Once done she would be roused form her sleep and forced to begin again despite the fatigue of her body, and the pain of her injuries.

Her entire life was consumed, down to her very dreams which whispered the formes back to her even as she created them. 

She was a creature of nothing more than the spear and sleep, more the former than the latter.

She couldn’t have said how long she was top hat mountain, or how many times her body ached with bruises. She couldn’t count her dreams.

But they were always there rife with friends she barely remembered and faced it was hard to recognize.

Moments of clarity reminded her of who she was and what she was doing, but the strange palace and the strange practices didn’t leave her much time for thinking, only fighting. And when they weren’t fighting she was listening to the words of Naktan as he spoke to her on the nature of Drev martial doctrine in its purest state and how it had been perverted and corrupted overtime into something…. Else entirely.

The doctrine of the spear being especially poignant to her. If only that had been the tradition her mother had followed…. Than maybe her life wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe she would have been raised by proud parents together in battle instead of one proud parent and another full of bitterness, so torn apart by their differences that they would never fight together again.

She listened to his words, and listened some more, about the nature of fighting itself, and the more she listened the more she understood just how wrong they had been about so many things. War was for honor sure, but it had never meant to become the lynch pin that held the doctrine together.  Fighting was about honor and was only to be performed under certain circumstances, protection, and to write wrongs between corrupted nations and uncorrupted nations.

He bemoaned the population of the Drev, so meager and sparse as it was….. Which was an issue Sunny had never considered. 

When she asked about technology his words surprised her. It was not, completely heretical, yes technology for the use of CEREMONIAL war was heretical, war between the Drev and the Drev alone, but when it came to other species, all bets were off. You didn’t hold others to the standards of your own nation and expected them to keep it.

Ranged weapons were a part of the universe and a completely new fighting style the Drev were going to have to learn and embrace.

The Drev martial doctrine was supposed to be hard, hard like a stone in a river, but also flexible, like water pouring past obstacles, a delicate balance between honor and practicality. OVer the years, the Drev had perverted those practices by making them too hard, and less flexible, placing those same hard parameters on their young.

Many perfect Drev children had been thrown to the fires for this ideology, and it was fitting that she would change it.

Saying this, he stood and took her by the arm leading her towards a cave in the back of the caldera surrounded by moss almost as black as midnight. He led her inside and towards the back where a forge was burning and huffing out great gouts of flame.

He turned and allowed her to look at the armor pieces lying on the stone floor crude and unfinished.

“I have begun the process for you using the ancient and secret knowledge of prismatic armor…. The armor of the saints. This will be your armor when you finish your work, and your armor when you descend from this mountain exalted. This is the end of your time with me, and there is no more I can do for you. So take up your mantle and begin your work.

Sunny nodded allowing herself to fall into the beating rhythm of metalwork, something that she had not done in a long time, but came back to her with the ease of a skil remembered, and the armor took shape underneath her hands, imperfections burned off by the flames….. A metaphor for herself perhaps.

***

Adam pulled his bag tight over his shoulder as he and Ramirez made their way towards the ship over the Tarmac. He craned his neck to look up at the familiar ship, a back monolith against the sky. The Omen, he had missed her greatly, and all of the people on it. Months of adventuring on strange planets and time to think for himself had certainly made his fondness for the ship grro.

Absence sure did make the heart grow fonder.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to look over at Ramirez,: who now had the worlds most glorious tan and a new white scar on the side of his neck, “You ready for this.”

“You better believe I am.” he looked up at the ship, “Did my girl miss me.”

“She most certainly did not!”

Jumping in surprise, he turned on his heels to see Narobi and Simon marching down the catwalk and over towards them. Nairobi’s eyes might as well have been filled with thunderheads negating the cheerful orange and yellow bandana she wore over her hair.

She marched right up to him, and jabbed him in the chest with a finger, “Do you know how hard it has been to keep this damn ship running when the person you left to captain CANNOT understand the IMPORTANCE of my work.”

Simon lifted her chin, “Admiral, the readout on the mechanical systems was negligible. I saw no danger from the elevated readings.”

“Do you have a degree in aerospace engineering? I don’t think so, and if you listened to me, you would know that ‘negligible’ can become ‘catastrophic’ very very fast.’

Adam frowned in some measure of concern, “Is the ship alright?”

“Just barely.” Nairobi snapped, no thanks to the Lieutenant.

Simon continued to hold her head high her jaw locked into palace quivering with anger.

Adam held up his hands, “Alright you two, take a few deep breaths and calm down. Nairobi, breathe in and out a few times, and next time sit Simon down and explain to her exactly what could go wrong and how it is likely to happen. Supply numbers and figures, Simon likes that sort of thing.” He turned his head towards Simon, “And Simon, It is important for you to listen to your crewmen. They are experts in their fields and know how to take care of their jobs better than you do. Let people know what you need, tell Nairobi that you need it explained to you in no uncertain terms. Your crew is what keeps your ship alive, and while you are their captain, you are also obligated to listen to their questions and their concerns . it is ALWAYS better to be on the safe side than it is to ignore a potential problem.”

Simon wilted a bit, and Narobi took a deep breath. Eyeing him with…. Some sort of expression he could not place.

She seemed almost surprised..

He ignored it for the time being setting his bag down and drawing himself up in height, “Now, what seems to be the problem.”

“One of our warp gaskets is running a little hot. I think it should be replaced.”

“Do you have a requisition form?”

She held out the holopad, “Right here sir.”

She held it out to him but he shook his head and pointed to Simon, “Simon, I want you to sign and date that. As acting captain of the ship, which you still are until I take command of the bridge.”

“Now both of you play nice.”

Nairobi frowned, but sighed as Simon grudgingly took and signed the requisition form, “We missed you Admiral, the ship….. Hasn’t been the same while you were gone.”

He smiled, “I know I bring a certain charm and roguish panache.”

“Well I was thinking that we don’t almost die nearly so much.”

Ramirez frowned and then looked at him, “You know what, she’s right but “I” i almost died like five times.” He turned to look at Narobi, “I got shot in the chest you know.”

She didn’t ook sorry for him, “Did you deserve it?”

He looked scandalized at her words, “I most certainly did not!”

Adam laughed, “it's Ramirez, of course he deserved it.”

He walked past Narobi and onto the ramp leading up into his ship. The smell was familiar, and hit him in a wave of fuel, and newly requisitioned cargo containers. At his side, Waffles trotted, staring up at him and wagging her tail, clearly happy to have him back since she hadn’t stopped looking at him like that since he returned. Letting her walk off leash she continued to circle him happily, tail whirling around like a furry sort of windmill.

As he stepped into the cargo area, the members of his crew stood up, salutation or greeting him surprising gusto.

They seemed…. Happy to see him.

It felt pretty good.

A few came up to shake his hand and ask how the extended vacation went. He smiled and glanced at ramirez, “As Ramirez here, he got shot.”

There was an eruption of voices and Ramirez excitedly began by telling his, mostly fabricated, tail about a heroic gun battle, proudly showing off his dented deputies badge. That got the reaction he was looking for as other men and women crowded around to oooo and ahhh.”

maverick , appearing from nowhere, looked around the man's shoulder, “Twenty bucks says you bought that at a gift shop somewhere.”

Adam grinned and shook his head, “You know I wouldn’t put it past him either, but actually, the first part of our vacation we visited the Bramble colony got us some horses and rode out for a little fun. We ended up getting kidnapped by bandits.”

“Like you seem to always do.”

“Yes, like I seem to always do, but it turned into a gunfight with the local sheriff’s department and after their leader got away the sheriff asked us to join him on thwarting a train robbery. Ramirez did get shot in the chest, and I got into a gunfight on the back of a speeding train.”

Maverick stared at them, “I’m not sure if I Believe that story or not.”

“You don’t have to, we have pictures and souvenirs of all the places we went .”

“Even have a picture of the guy who gave Ramirez that scar, on our last outing, but I can tell you that later.”

“YOU.”

He sighed quietly, “Here we go.”

He turned on the spot, looking over to see Krill marching up through the ship glowering at him, like only krill, out of all his species, could glower, “I-am-ao-angyr-with-you. 

Adam shrugged, “What’s new.”

“Don’t get cute with me. I have been watching your vital signs for weeks, and it's been like riding a rollercoaster. I have never ridden a roller coaster, but do to this experience, I already know that I would very much hate it. You, you were supposed to be on VACATION. You were supposed to be on Vacation for mental health purposes and now i hear that you have been SHOT AT, and jumped onto the back of SPEEDING TRAINS. What makes you think that this is ok!”

“I find that putting your life in danger really brings things into perspective, doctor. Now I promise I will go visit Dr. Adric later for a second opinion, but right now, I need to go inspect my ship.” He patted Krill on the head amused when the little creature nearly burst into a flaming ball of rage. It made him laugh as he worked his way further onto the ship, finally appearing on the bridge with a deep breath.

“Admiral on deck!” Someone shouted, and the entire room raised their feet in greeting him their hands raised in excitement welcoming him back with no shortage of enthusiasm and relief. He bet he knew why. Simon was….. Well she was a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes, even more so when she got nervous. He had a feeling things on the ship had become a little more strict since he had taken his leave of absence.”

He went to go take his seat in the captain's chair and frowned, “Dammit Simon, what have you been doing here. It took him almost five minutes to adjust his seat back into its preferred position, and then when he turned on his holo projections he frowned, “Simon! What the hell did you do.”

“I reconfigured it for maximum efficiency.”

“To me it looks like you broke it. Damn where the hell is everything.”

It took him about two hours to even partially recover what simon had “fixed.” And even then he was still having trouble finding everything. He would have liked to get off the ground that day, but it didn’t seem like that was going to be happening. He dismissed the rest of the crew to  rework the computers back to his preferred state.

Simon called it inefficient, but he called it comfortable and familiar, which is what mattered when it came to being a pilot. He promised her when she became the captain of her own ship she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

Sitting there, alone in the dark for hours on end, he tried not to think about the one person he had hoped to see when he came back. He tried as hard as he absolutely could not tothink, but still the thoughts slipped in anyways.

He pulled the ship into orbit just before lights out with the help of the night crew, and then surrendered command to the night lieutenant giving orders to head in the direction of Europa station before he stepped out into the darkened hallway.

Alone and with his own throughs, he grew morose and sour upon thinking.

Waffles bumped her head softly against his hand and he ran his fingers along her velvety ears, “Yeah I’m an idiot.”

“Certainly.”

He jumped shocked for a moment thinking she had spoken before realising the voice….. The voice wasn’t female number one, and number two it had a certain air of condescension that he knew and recognized all too well.

“Hello Conn.”

Ethereal silver ribbons took their form around the next corner as Conn floated closer his wide black eyes shining back at Adam from the darkness, “Admiral. I am glad to see you are doing better.”

He grunted, “Save me te platitudes Conn.”

“No really, I am glad, you see I am the only one here who has to share your necrosis, which can be rather loud and bothersome sometimes when I am trying to relax.”

“I am sorry my mental anguish invoenianced you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Adam sighed deeply.

“She’s not here you know.”

He blinked feeling his skin go cold and clammy, “She’s not.”

“Yes, she has not been back for months now.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh…. I see.”

“When she left, she did seem intent on returning, but I cannot know if those inclinations have changed.”

“How long?”

“She didn’t know. She was still deciding on her next course of action…. Also, you might want to turn around.”

“Turn around, why would I want to-” He was turning even as he spoke, and just in time so it seemed to be punched squarely in the jaw. He fell over backwards slamming into the floor with a loud rattle seeing stars, his face aching. He scrambled to regain himself but went slack again when he looked up and saw Cannon standing over him, a look of absolute rage on his alien face.

He grabbed Adam by the front of the shirt and hauled him upright and into the air so his feet were kicking a good two feet off the ground. He could feel the fabric of his shirt straining against his weight as he was slammed back against the wall.

“You BASTARD!”

It translated to bastard in english, but underneath the words he could hear the phrase Cannon actually used. The Slur that in Drev was more closely related to corward.

His first instinct was to struggle, but then, he thought better of it, allowing himself to go limp in cannon’s hands as he quietly said, “I know.”

Cannon slammed him back against the wall again, “NO YOU DON’T KNOW. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE.”

He stared up at Cannon in confusion, “I-”

“No of course you couldn’t understand, you’re human. You don’t give a shit about your romantic partners, you just up and leave them, constantly. Cherry picking them and squeezing the life out of them until your done just to discard them.”

“Cannon I-”

“Drev only-love-once. Just ONCE.”

Adam blinked in surprise and shock as those words sank in.

On of Cannon’s hands migrated to his throat, and he choked against the crushing force on his windpipe, “She will never love anyone ever again, you understand. Its biology, and nature, but you humans just don’t understand that do you. You don’t understand loyalty. Instead you pick out partners like you’re going grocery shopping, or getting a taste to see which ice cream flavor you like more.”

Cannon’s grip grew tighter, “Well she is  my SISTER…. Not an ice cream flavor.” 

Adam’s vision was beginning to blacken and he kicked weakly in an attempt to escape.

“And then you just upland left without explanation. You left her to deal with that all on her own, and now I don't know where she is, or what she is doing.”

His hearing was echoing, and hi entier vision had gone black.

At some point Cannon must have seen his face turning purple and finally dropped him. Adam hit the floor and collapsed gasping for air and holding his neck as he rolled onto his back.

“Pathetic.” Cannon snarled

Adam was admittedly very scared, he had never seen Cannon like this before. Usually so laid back and relaxed.

He sat up still holding his neck and wheezing, ‘I get it…. I get it I fucked up. I know that, I know.”

“DO YOU! Do you understand what you’ve done!”

“She is going to be alone for the rest of her life because of YOU.”

Adam flinched holding a hand over his head to avoid being struck, “It wasn’t meant to be permanent!”

Cannon paused, “What do you mean.”

“I mean I…. well. I just wanted to be able to get myself together without hurting her more. I didn’t want to force her to be with me, when I wasn’t ready or able. Now I can see that that was a mistake I made when I wasn’t in the right place. I didn’t intend to leave forever.”

“Than why didn’t you TELL HER THAT.”

Adam scrambled backwards across the floor as Cannon came marching after him, arms held to his sides ready to fight.

Adam held up a hand to cover his face.=, and Cannon had just drawn back his fist when Both of their implants began beeping.

They paused in their Drama looking down at their arms.

Adam frowned.

Cannon tapped his wrist, “What is this?”

“ITs a transmission from Anin.” he crawled to his feet, “Come on, lets go see what this is about.”

Their Argument forgotten for the moment, the two of them ran onto the bridge and Adam pulled up the transmission, flipping it on just long enough to see a message scrawled in the Drev language to rolling across screen that translated to.

“The spirit of the mountain burns blue, and the saints have returned.”

“Spirits save us.” Cannon whispered.

Adam shook his head in consternation, “No way…. But cannon, no on has been sainted in…. In.”

“Over five centuries. We must go, as the Sentinel of our clan you will be required to appear if you are able, and anyone other Drev whose feet can carry them far enough.”

“Right, setting a course for Anin.”

*** Sunny Knelt on the stone floor of the cavern, eyes closed breathing deeply. The fire of the forges were doused and she was left in semi-darkness.

Soft footsteps approached, and she looked up slowly to find Naktan standing before her, over the neatly arranged pile of armor that glowed like a freshly polished pearl in the light above…. The armor of saints.

Only relics of similar armor had ever been found, and only ever in pieces.

This was the only full suit of its kind.

“It is time.”

He held out his hands, and in them he held a large scroll made out of the most rare of Coiltree paper, “The words written here are your words, the Doctrine of Drev martial combat and law. Penned in my own hand it contains firstly, the doctrines and second the forms of the new fighting styles to be decementated throughout the class.”

She nodded.

“Take up your mantle Saint of the Burning Sun, and so we shall begin a new age.”

She stood, and he knelt before her strapping on the first piece o her new armor from the feet up, interlocking the masterfully crafted pieces the color of pearl, stronger than steel. Until lastly he placed the helmet upon her head and locked it into place

It was heavy in a comforting sort of way.

A moment later he returned, “The last piece I gift to you is a weapon made by my own hand.” It was pearlescent like the white of the armor she no wore, “Stronger than steel, and as sharp as obsidian. None but I know the materials and methods to craft this, and none shall ever know until I pass it down to a successor.” he handed her the scroll, “Begin your trek down the mountain, and there they will be waiting to hear your words.”

She nodded, “Thank you Naktan….. Thank you.”

He placed a hand on her arm in a friendly gesture before urging her on.

She did as told walking, for the first time in so many months towards the opening of the caldera.

When she stepped outside she was momentarily dazzled by the glowing blue fire that roared up from around her.

The mountain seemed to shake and burn in ways she had not seen before erupting from all sides as if it knew.

Blue light poured off her body like water, and with her head held high she began her way down the mountain.

***

Adam and Kanan stood at the edge of the hotspring, packed in with the rest of a restless crowd. Adam’s eyes were wide, Dazzled by the glowing inferno that was the fiery blue mountain. He had never seen anything like it. It burned with such glorious blue intensity that he could scarcely look at it, and it rubmeld so violently he could feel it in his feet.

He wore his ceremonial Drev armor, all the way up to the helmet and down into the cape. A spear was held in his right hand as he stood sentinel for the Wandering tribe, next to the rest of the clan leaders that had made their trek here.

They stood, for hours and hours as the mountain burned, casing a beacon of blue light down around them.

Thousands of drev trickled in from all sides  whispering and murmuring at the strange scene before them. But still they were mostly silent, unsure of what to do or how to behave. Adam didn't  know what to expect. 

His human leg ached under the weight of the heavy armor as the sun began to rise slowly in the distance, but discipline, discipline he had learned in his travels kept him in his place, unmoving.

They waited and waited and waited until the Sun painted the sky peach with its rising.

And from the sulfuric fog of the hotspring, the watched as a figure coalesced as a shadow in the mist, walking calmly across the open hotspring field

A asp rose up, as those, still in disbelief began to realise that this was real.

Adam stared forward engaging his mechanical eye and zooming in on the figure.

The fog parted like a curtain to reveal a glorious almost ethereal drev warrior in pearl white armor just as the sun crested over the horizon. The light hit the armor, and rays of prismatic light exploded around them.

The waiting crowd gasped and threw up their hands to cover their eyes. The light was so pright Adam had to cover his human eye, and only after he filtered out the brighter wavelengths was he able to see.

And when he did his knees went weak.

“Sunny!”

Cannon heard the words and forced himself to stare into the bright light, but after a moment of looking Adam heard him, “Spirits above….” His voice trailed off 

She walked slowly and with great purpose over the steaming landscape, glittering like constellation fallen from the sky.

Adam fel his heart racing and his stomach churn in flips.

A small part of him, for a single instant bittered towards her, for going out and becoming THIS while he was away.

But then the rest of him, stamped that thought out with a vengeance feeling a glowing of pride inside for her and what she had become. She was better than he was, than he had ever been and he could see now that he had never deserved to even stand in her presence. He felt small even as pride for her burned through his veins like the molten blue fire on the mountain.

She paused just ahead of them, standing on the white bed of the hotsprings.

“Brothers and sisters.”

Her voice echoed like rolling thunder.

His heart only beat faster, his stomach turning somersaults.

“Long has it been since the spirits spoke, since they have changed the martial doctrine of our people. Long have we been left to suffer in words and actions corrupted by time and foolish interpretations. Today I am here to lead the Drev into a new and brighter age, but also to bring us back to the true and pure doctrines that once were, before being so morally corrupt. See the mountain behind me, and the armor with which I ware, and if any of you dare to challenge my legitimacy, let him step into the circle with me.”

She stared around at the crowd, her eyes seeming to glow with fire.

His heart sped up and then stopped as her eyes passed over him, and then turned to fall upon him again.

It seemed as if she could see right through him, and his innards felt s if they melted and trickled down into his leg.

“Does no one wish to challenge me.”

The plateau was silent.

“By deferring to my word you accept my legitimacy, and therefore the legitimacy of my words. THe doctrines will be handed out to all peoples young and old, for copy and study. The day changes now, and my first and greatest decree is a return to the true doctrine of the spear, “If a Kit is born above the raging fires, and possesses the ability to hold a weapon, than they shall not be cast into the fire.”

There was a gasp up around them.

“It may have one arm, or no legs, or no eyes, or be blind or be deff, or have no carapace of which to speak, but if they can hold a spear than they shall live.”

The thunder of her words rocked him to his very bones, so he could only have imagined what it did t the others, an entire people who had been living differently for hundreds of years. How would they react, would they accept her words.

But looking up at her, he knew what his choice would be.

He wouldn’t dare challenge her.

She was the truth made corporeal.

She was A saint.” 

[bakugoyelling]

“A Prince with Butterfly Clips”

Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (Dad! Tamaki x Mom! Reader)

Warnings: Nothing explicit just some family fluff

Word Count: 1.3 K

Summary: You and Tamaki have the cutest daughter, her new favorite thing to do is play pretend hair salon. While playing with her dad something goes wrong but Tamaki knows exactly how to cheer her up!

Tamaki sat on the floor of the living room, his legs criss-crossed while his hands rested in his lap. Behind him stood your 4-year-old daughter wearing a small fabric belt with pockets around her waist. Inside, the pockets held her latest prized possessions; the shiny plastic of her new toy hairdresser supplies.

 She had a brush, a hair dryer, scissors, and even a cute little hair straighter. It was a gift that you and Tamaki had given her after taking notice of her new favorite pastime, which consisted of her using your brush to style the fur of her stuffed animals while pretending to give them haircuts using her fingers as imaginary scissors.

But right now instead of a teddy bear, it was Tamaki that was paying a visit to her make-believe hair salon.

“I like your hair mister. Are you a prince?” Your daughter asked her father while she brushed his dark hair with her pink sparkly brush. Tamaki smiled at his daughter’s question, knowing exactly what to say to get her excited.

“Yes, I am...I’m Prince Amajiki and I came here to get my hair done. For the royal ball.”

Her eyes sparkled as she let out a gasp. “Wow, a royal ball! Are you going with a princess?”

“Yeah, I’m going with my princess, she went into town for some food but she should be back soon. So...can you make me look nice for her?” He asked his daughter.

“Yeah! I will cut it and make it pretty for you and your princess!” The young girl began to focus as she took a hold of her plastic scissors and began “chopping” away at Tamaki’s dark locks, making the appropriate hair cutting sounds with her mouth.

“Mister prince Amajiki? I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Is your princess pretty? And do you love her?” Your daughter innocently asked Tamaki while she kept on playing with his hair.

Even with it being his own daughter the simple questions still caused Tamaki to look down and blush as he thought about you. “Umm...yeah she’s really pretty, beautiful actually but she’s also really nice and funny and...I absolutely love her, a lot.”

Your daughter smiled as she continued to “cut” Tamaki’s hair. “You are a very sweet prince, your princess sounds nice! I think I love that princess too!” Her adorable response caused a smile to grace his face.

The little girl’s small hands smoothed down Tamaki’s hair proceeding to style it.

“What kind of hair do you want? A ponytail like me or braids?” She played with the strands of his soft hair as she waited for his response.

“A ponytail sounds nice.”

“Okay Dada, um...I mean prince Amajiki!”

Tamaki chuckled at her slip up.

Your daughter lowered her hand into one of her pockets, pulling out a blue hair tie. As she gathered up her dad’s hair she tried to remember the way it looked when she watched you get ready. The way you would easily use your fingers to brush your hair back, gather it high up on your head and quickly wrap the hair tie around your hair creating a perfect ponytail. She tried to imitate your process, replaying the steps in her mind several times but no matter how many times she tried, she just couldn’t get it right. Tying the hair tie into his hair was impossible for her. “Oh no...” she whispered behind Tamaki. He could hear the disappointment in her voice making his smile fade away.

“What’s wrong butterfly?”

“I’m sorry Dada...I can’t.” Her voice was shaky. Tamaki turned around to look at her, his heart aching at the scene before him. His daughter was staring down at the ground, her eyes glossy from the tears pooling in them.

He stood up on his knees and wrapped his arms around her small body. “Can’t do what? What’s wrong, please don’t cry” Tamaki hated seeing his daughter sad.

“I can’t do the ponytail.” Her face was pressed into his neck making her words a bit muffled. Tamaki rubbed comforting circles against her back before leaning away to look at her. A small tear trailed down her cheek as she looked up at him. “I can’t make it pretty.”

Tamaki wiped away her tears and kissed the top of her head.

“It’s alright sweetie, I don’t need a ponytail, we can just do something else…something prettier, okay?” He nodded his head up and down, reassuring her and himself that everything was fine.

“Okay, Dada.” She sniffled. She still looked sad, her pointed ears drooping a little just like Tamaki’s did when he too felt defeated. But he was determined to make her smile again.

“Hey, remember all those butterfly clips Mama got you a while ago?”

She nodded, remembering the day you came home with the array of hair accessories. You had spent some time twisting back the side pieces of her hair clipping the butterfly clips into her dark locks. She gasped in awe when she looked in the mirror and saw a flutter of butterflies going down the side of her head. The smallest things always made her so excited.

“Uh-huh, she got me all different colors, glitter ones too!”

Tamaki felt at ease seeing his daughter’s expression change for the better. “Yeah! Why don’t you use them on my hair...I bet you can make me look really nice.”

“Okay, I‘ll be right back prince Amajiki!” She dashed off to her playroom, finding the box she had kept the clips in.

She re-entered the living room, setting the box down next to her as she took her spot behind Tamaki again.

“You’re going to look so beautiful for your princess now. She’s going to kiss you when she sees you!” She brushed Tamaki’s hair some more and began placing the brightly colored butterfly clips into his hair. There was no pattern or intricate design, she just put them wherever she thought they looked good.

Clipping the last butterfly onto Tamaki’s bangs so they swept to the side; her work was done in just a few minutes. “Ta-da! All done!” She exclaimed, stepping back to admire her dad’s hair.

“I love it Dada, let’s go look in the mirror.”

“Alright, let me pick you-” Tamaki was cut off by the sound of your keys opening up the door. Your daughter’s eyes widened as she eagerly bounced on her feet. “It’s Mama, your princess, she’s back!” She ran to the door as you opened it and stepped inside carrying a bag of takeout.

“Hey butterfly! I got the food.” You smiled down at your daughter while placing the bag down on the dining room table.

“Where’s your dad at?” You asked her.

“You mean Prince Amajiki? He’s over there waiting for you, the princess!”

You followed where she was pointing and giggled when you saw Tamaki approaching you, his hair decorated with the butterfly clips. You tried your best at a princess voice while you swiftly walked towards him.

“Prince Amajiki! There you are!” You jumped onto him wrapping your legs around his waist. Tamaki caught you and held onto you tightly while he peered down at you smirking.

“Do you like his hair, Princess Amajiki? I did it all by myself!” Your daughter beamed from below.

Your fingers played with the ends of his hair while you nodded your head. “I absolutely love his hair! All these butterfly clips make him look so handsome.” You placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Yay! A kiss! The princess likes it!” Your daughter clapped at your actions making Tamaki blush a bit. You pressed your forehead against your husband’s and chuckled before unwrapping your legs from around his waist, letting him place you back down on your feet.

“Alright...let’s go eat before the food gets cold my princesses.” Tamaki smiled down at his two favorite girls, taking hold of your daughter’s hand while the three of you walked back to the dining room for dinner.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Author’s Note: You should all know that I’m so soft for Tamaki as a dad and I would totally have his little babies. I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! :)

— please do not modify or repost my work

#dad!tamaki #💗tamaki #☁️bnha #🌻fluffy stuff #mp #m.writes

[ditttiii]

Finding Me Through You. || jjk ||

(Angst // comfort // romance // strangers to friends to lovers // a hybrid AU)

Summary:   You lose yourself to the feeling of having the man you love, kiss you and it feels like a homecoming. It feels like having the stars align perfectly, it feels like having your world tilt back on its axis. It feels like magic, joy—love.

OR

Jeon Jungkook. The campus heartthrob. Captain of the football team. High School Prom King. Teacher’s favourite. Student body favourite. Anyone, and everyone's favourite. This is the story of how you went from strangers to best friends to finally lovers and if in the way you somehow found yourself? well that was just a bonus.

Part One

Jeon Jungkook. The campus heartthrob. Captain of the football team. High School Prom King. Teacher’s favourite. Student boy favourite. Anyone, and everyone's favourite.

 Also your best friend. A shocker to many.

To an outsider, who hasn't seen you two together, it would be hard to believe that you were his best friend. You–the resident nerd, the geek, the shy white hybrid. But you were. You were the best of friends. 

You were both panther hybrids, but that didn't mean that you both had the same personalities. Far from it really, while you were painfully shy and non-confrontational, Jungkook was fierce and loud, the one who always stood up for what was right. The golden maknae–as he was affectionately referred to as, in his circle of friends. While your fur was white and spotless, your voice soft and mellow, his was a soft gold with bold black stripes running along the course of it, his voice loud and clear–unafraid of being heard. Wanting to be heard–demanding to be heard. 

The dichotomy between the two of you was as obvious to you as it was to everyone else. 

You remember the first time you noticed Jeon Jungkook. You really noticed him. Of course, you knew who he was before, he wasn't exactly subtle with him and his group of friends being the most popular guys in your college. But that was the first time you really saw him for who he actually was. 

You were working at the small cafe on your campus. It was a cosy little thing with students spending hours pouring all their energy into last-minute assignment submissions and consuming ridiculous amounts of caffeine. So, you were certainly surprised when the door to the cafe opened–the chime above it ringing softly and letting you know about the arrival of new customers, and you looked up only to lock eyes with Jeon freaking Jungkook.

Your breath got caught as he gave you a soft polite smile before one of his friends–Taehyung you think–pushed him forward and they moved further to the back of the cafe. 

You were soon away from the counter, walking towards his table to get his order. You knew any other girl in your shoes would have been jumping for joy–ecstatic to be talking to him and his friends. But you weren't any other girl because despite being a predator hybrid, your persona was mostly soft. Shy. You didn't want to come under anyone's radar just because you took his order. But your bills weren't going to pay themselves and you had student loans too, so you sucked it up and marched forward. 

Let's get this over and done with already. You thought and blew a raspberry, your overgrown bangs fluttering away before settling back on your cheek and tickling your skin softly.

There weren't many things that could surprise you anymore–the hands that fate had dealt you with already having taken their toll on you. But today you were surprised. You don't know why, but for some reason, you hadn't been expecting Jungkook and his posse of friends to be nice. But they were nice–beyond nice. They were friendly and polite–unflinchingly courteous. Hell, they even bowed to you, simply for serving them coffee. A mundane job on your part that you weren't doing out of any goodness of your heart, but solely because you were getting paid for doing it.

—CRASH—

You turn, as the sound of glass shattering reached your ears and almost as if on autopilot you moved towards it, praying that nobody had been hurt.

You get there and see a fox hybrid from one of your classes cursing and furiously trying to get the water off of his shirt with a tissue in his hand.

You look him over to see if he has any injuries and release a relieved sigh when you don't see any. You then rush back and grab one of your coworkers, asking them to look after the cash register as you go to the back to get a broom. 

You come back with your cleaning supplies and scoop the shattered glass away, mopping the floor dry after. Just as you were about to head back you hear someone holler, "WAITRESS!" 

You turn with furrowed brows and see the fox hybrid from earlier snapping his fingers in the air. 

Yes, you were a hybrid and part animal but you were also part human, and that sort of behaviour was demeaning to you. However, being the peace-keeper that you are, you say nothing and just silently walk towards him, voicing out a polite 'Yes?' once you reach beside his table. 

"I don't know what kind of shit you are trying to pull here but I am not falling for it. Why the fuck was I charged for the glass? That shit shattered and it could have hurt me!? And YOU are trying to make me pay for that shit?! Fuck you! I ain't paying for this shit." He yells as he stands up and takes a threatening step towards you, his hybrid instincts taking hold of him. 

You stumble back, at once terrified of the man in front of you. You wish your hybrid instincts would come through, hoping that the predator in you would somehow protect you. But your meekness wins and you stumble back even further, apologies pouring out of your mouth as you try to distance yourself from the fox hybrid. You were ready to pay the money out of–your own pocket if it meant not having to face his wrath. 

"Dude, Back OFF" you hear someone threaten, and suddenly your vision is filled with black—the black of Jeon Jungkooks back to be precise. His leather jacket shone softly under the warm lights of the cafe and you fix your eyes on it.

You try to distract yourself from the fact that the air around you was growing heavier by the second. Killing intent pouring out of their bodies, making it harder for you to breathe. 

You are the lamest panther hybrid ever,  You tell yourself. You couldn't even stand up for your own damn self! 

You are a disgrace to predators. Always the fucking damsel in distress, The mean voice inside your head continues, and you feel yourself shrink further into your shell. Tears pool into your eyes, as your cheeks colour with shame and embarrassment. 

"Y/N!" your eyes snap ahead, the tears slip down your cheeks and leave warm, wet trails behind. You hiccup and try to step away, to get away, to run.  

It's not like you are good for much else anyway, whispers the voice again. Watering the overgrown tree that has fertilised itself on your insecurities and fears— and you shudder. Your breaths start coming faster—shorter, and you start to feel light-headed. 

You feel a panic attack coming, but before you can think about it too much, you feel as someone wraps their arms around you. The arms thick,  strong and warm, pull you closer to a chest. The chest is even warmer and firmer under your cheek as you lay your head on it and try to get your breathing under control. You know who the chest belonged to, you know your tears were ruining the white tee under Jeon Jungkooks leather jacket. 

You can't even afford to dry clean it for him, your brain rationalises and you pull away because even amid an almost breakdown, you can't forget, just how tight on cash you were. But before you can pull back completely, the arms that were around you tighten and cage you in. Pulling you closer, and your nose hits his neck, before one of the arms snakes around to your head and starts patting your hair—softly, as if you were a child.

It's only then that you realise that you were still trembling like a leaf in a storm. Your breaths were still coming out more as shudders and the ache in your heart only worsens, as you realise how nice it feels to have someone hug you. 

He was still holding you, softly rocking you from side to side. Whispering reassurances softly, but ones that you could clearly hear with your hybrid hearing. You think you should, want to pull back, run away from him after all, he was a predator—a strong and extremely dangerous one at that. If he wanted to, he could snap your spine in half like a twig.

But even with the warnings ringing inside your head, you don't make a move to leave his embrace and just silently accept the affection—even if he was doing it only because he pitied you. You don’t care, you couldn't remember the last time someone had held you so tenderly, with so much care, as if you were a porcelain doll that could shatter with one wrong move. 

So you stop thinking, stop moving and just feel. Silently let Jeon Jungkook embrace you in his iron-clad strong arms. You close your eyes and pull yourself closer to him, barely a hair's breadth closer, too afraid to shatter the moment and assure yourself that he won't notice.

However Jungkook does, he holds his breath as he feels you move closer before a small smile slips onto his lips and he softly nuzzles your hair. Breathing your scent in, he tightens his arms and pulls you even closer.

Next: Part 2 

Soo this was originally going to be a drabble in response to this ask, but then I got carried away with building this imaginary world in my head and it turned into a Two-shot — which is honestly just SO me. I can never pace myself *smh*

I hope you enjoyed this, the next part is gonna be less angst-y and more warm and cuddly—so YAY! to that. 

If you liked this please drop a like and give me your feedback in the comments or well the ask box as always, is also open for anyone that would like to share their feedback in detail or just anonymously. I would be VERY happy if you re-blog too. 

I LOVE you so much for reading till the very end. If I could meet you and give you cookies-I would. But till then here’s a *virtual hug*

#btswritingcafe #jungkook fanfiction #hybrid!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #btsfanfic #bts x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid au #hybrid!au #bts fluff #bts angst au #ditttiii #ditttiii writes #ditttiii request #finding me through you #bts fic

[sheabuttahwrites]

[I Know]

. five : two and a possible

four

I finished up my ‘morning’ routine and walked back over to sit next to him, finally ready to eat something. “I'm hungry. What we having?”

“Oh shit!” 

“What?”

“I forgot to get food.”

I tilted my head, my features overtaken by displeasure. “You’ve been eating hella takeout, huh? You know that’s not good.” We’d had this conversation a couple times before. He was generally a healthy guy, but his diet could be so trash at times. 

“I mean, I was. But I’ve been at my mom’s house eating Thanksgiving leftovers the past few days.”

I snorted. “You are such a man,” I playfully huffed, shaking my head.

“I’ma do better,” he mumbled listlessly with a laugh. “You can order something, though. I’ll pick some stuff up tomorrow after my last meeting.”

“Ok. We can just get pizza. That cool?”

“Yeah. ”

“You got dessert at least?”

He stared at the wall in deep thought, his mouth doubtfully agape. “ …I think I have ice cream?”

“Ok.” I left my seat with the kitchen in mind solely because of the obvious lack of confidence he had just displayed. “Come look with me.”  

“What?” The presence of a frown was more than apparent on his face.   

“Come with me,” I insisted, unfazed. 

“For what? You aren’t a guest anymore.”

“I am, too.” Now I was frowning. 

“No, you're not. You know where the kitchen is, the pantry, the fridge; you know where everything is,” he listed candidly, but stood to his feet anyway.  

“So. You don't have to be rude.” I rolled my eyes, turning to walk out with him in tow. I’d had to hide the smile trying to creep onto my face. I loved messing with him. 

He smacked his lips, clearly agitated, and I couldn't hold my laughs. “I’m coming, woman.”

We stepped into his kitchen and I pulled the freezer drawer open, searching for the ice cream I had sort of been promised? Curious, I paused to look in the refrigerator. Other than a few bottles of water, a carton of eggs, a couple carryout plates and various condiments, there wasn’t much inside. “Damn, you weren't lying. Ain’t shit in here.”

“I told you.”

I laughed as I closed the doors and went back to the freezer. I moved a bag of broccoli to the side, then a bag of pineapple chunks. “Found it,” I gleefully announced, lifting the pint of vanilla Haagen Dazs. I removed the top and the seal was still there. Perfect. I turned to show him just as he was coming out of the pantry.

“Here’s some stuff my sister had.” He held up a box of fudge brownie mix in one hand and an unopened bottle of vegetable oil in the other. 

“Oh, hell yeah,” I approved with a satisfied nod, before putting the ice cream away. That was right up my alley.

He chuckled, shaking his head, as he sat them both on the counter. I walked over and slid them closer to me. “I swear you a junkie.”

“Glucose gang ‘til I die, cuz.”

“You bangin’ sugar?” I looked up at him and we fell out almost immediately. I leaned over onto the marble in front of me, cracking all the way up while he stood beside me doing the same. “You got a problem.”

“Nah, that’s why I’m so sweet.” I winked and stuck my tongue out before laughing a little harder. He just grinned at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Now, go order the pizza,” I snappily instructed, waving him off and pulling out one of the chairs at the island.

“That wasn't sweet at all.”

I took a seat and pompously crossed my legs, clutching my knee with laced hands and being sure to keep my eyes away from him, even as I spoke. “This is just payback for making me spend the day by myself tomorrow.” 

He smacked his lips. “Girl, hush.” He was so serious I couldn't help but laugh, but also don’t be telling me to hush. He went to leave and I reached out to push him. The joke was on me, though, because he had gotten too far. All I had done was push air and almost fallen out of my chair. “Look at you. So sweet I don’t know what I’ma do with you.” 

I snorted. “Shut up.”

“You feel like baking for real, though? I need one of them fire ass strawberry cheesecakes.”

“I got you, babe. You know I always feel like baking.”

“Bet. Text me a list so I can get the stuff tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

He came back with his laptop and credit card, settling in the seat next to mine. Normally this part would take a while, because one of us—me—would have a time trying to figure out what they wanted. But that wasn’t the case today. I was starving and my pizza order didn't usually get too complicated anyway. I quickly decided on pepperoni and green peppers, and he went with chicken and spinach. I couldn't wait to eat some of mine and his. 

“So… how has it been? How are you?”

I shrugged my shoulder, taking my focus to my hands down on the counter. I really didn't want to talk about this. Honestly, it was the furthest thing from my mind. But I knew he was probably worried. “…Ok, I guess. I’ve been good.”

“Have things gotten any better? Be honest.” 

I looked up, seeing the care and concern that I always saw in his eyes. And that shit made it extremely hard for me to lie to him. I wasn’t a good liar either. So, I shook my head. It had actually gotten much worse since the last time he and I saw each other. But, that part, I had to keep to myself. “Not really. Just the same ol’, same ol’.” 

His gaze never left me, but he didn’t speak another word. Probably just didn’t have anything to say. I could definitely understand.

At this point my only concern was her wellbeing. I couldn't give anymore advice, because I had long tapped out. It had all been falling on deaf ears anyway. We’d known each other for about a year and a half now, and nothing had changed. I didn't mean to judge her, but she seemed content just where she was. Content with disarray. In my eyes, her reasons for staying were bullshit. Because love damn sure wasn't keeping her. Love wouldn't be doing half the shit she was enduring. It certainly wouldn't have her going into another man’s home just to get away. 

Nah.

Love is what had me making accommodations every sixty days for a woman who wasn't mine. It’s what had me turning down the advances of other women when I didn't have to. It’s the five hundred dollar mixer and numerous other baking supplies in my kitchen that I don't even use. It’s what kept me up at night asking myself what the fuck I was doing, and actually attempting to justify it. Love is me throwing everything reasonable, and everything sensible, and everything rational, and everything logical out the window when I knew better.

I felt like it was time for me to make a choice. For my own good if nothing else. Without question, things just weren't gonna work themselves out. I needed to start using my better judgment. It was on me, because she wasn't moving. I needed to take myself out of the picture. I knew this, but it was hard as hell to even think about. A sign from God is what I really needed. Soon. Because I felt that my next move was about to be a mistake no matter what. I hated to admit it, but I was getting tired of going to pick her up every time that ungrateful ass nigga left, having so much fun with her, and then taking her back to him. I wanted her. So fucking bad. And I knew the feeling was mutual. But being on the sidelines of her life was slowly breaking me. I had to accept that whatever I was to her now was likely all I would ever be. Equally, I couldn't stand seeing her allow someone to treat her so poorly when she was worth so much more. I just wish that I had been able to make her understand that. I wish all of it could've gone differently. 

“So, what you been up to?” she quietly asked, breaking the silence.

“Not much. Just working, the occasional event, linking with my boys. You know, the usual.”

“Any new possibles?” She couldn't even get it out before her lips started to form a grin. This was what she had really meant by her previous question. She always found a way to work it into the conversation. And each time was less cunning than the last, even though she was for sure trying to be slick. 

“Oh, of course.”

“Ewww,” she drawled, simultaneously smiling and scrunching her face in disgust. I chuckled. 

“What?”

“‘Oh, of course’!”

I dropped my head, laughing at her exaggerated imitation of me. I did not sound like that. “I'm just saying. Women love the king.”

“Oooh. You weren't this cocky the last time I saw you,” I teased lightheartedly, clutching my imaginary pearls. He was so tickled.

“I’m joking.”

“Nah, you're serious.”

“I know what I bring to the table, but I'm not over feeling myself.”

“I hear you, homie.”

He cut his eyes at me as I kept up my production of faux amazement. “You get on my nerves so bad, Jay.”

I grabbed his shoulder and leaned over on him, laughing too hard. Yeah, I was picking, but I couldn’t be mad. He was telling the truth. Women did indeed love his ass. Whenever we were out, I would catch them staring constantly. A couple of them had even had the gumption to approach him. But seeing him interact with the women who actually knew him, the women in his family, I could just feel it. They really loved him. His mom, his best friend’s mom, his little sister and a cousin were the ones I’d had the opportunity to witness him in conversation with. The adoration was practically radiating from the screen during their Facetime calls. He even had an aunt who would send him care packages from time to time. I understood fully. I absolutely adored him myself. He just had this light about himself and it was fiercely captivating. Even if I’d wanted to let go, I don't believe I could. His place in my heart had been solidified. I couldn't imagine my life without Omari. I didn't even like to think of the possibility. 

“So, these possibles,” I continued, a smile still lingering. “Is there looove in the air?” 

“Nah.” He reclined in his seat and propped his elbow on the back. In a matter of seconds, all enthusiasm had left his body. “I’m not really on that right now.”

I frowned. He wasn't usually so dry with me. “Did something happen?” 

“Nah, not really.”

“So, what’s up? You don't have your eye on anybody?” I found that very hard to believe. 

“I mean…” The sly smirk that made its way onto his face caused me to drop my concern like a hot potato. I knew he was holding out. 

“Mhmm. Spill, bruh.”

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, laughing a little as he leaned toward the island again. “I didn't say that, I just been chillin’.”

“Nah, something’s going on. We tell each other everything, now cat got your tongue.” 

“It’s not even like that. To be completely honest with you, it just feels like nobody is genuine anymore. Now, these women either just out here on the come up or they're only interested for superficial reasons. They don’t really like you. I can’t mess with none of that.”

“Well, I can definitely understand not being able to trust.”

“You know? It’s hard. And I do want that special something with someone, someone I can do life with, but I don't know. Risking your heart like that is just…” 

“Yeah. I get it.”

“So, yeah. That’s all it is.”

“Maybe you can start looking in some different places than usual. Where you be?”

“I'm not looking for anything currently.”

“Why do you sound so sad when you say that, though?” 

He glanced over at me and laughed, but I didn't return his supposed joy. I can’t lie, it was a bit troubling. We had spoken on this kind of stuff before, but he had never seemed so affected by it. “I’m not sad. I’m good, I promise.”

“Ok, so what qualities would your ideal lady have?” I switched to a lighter, more giddy tone, in hopes of making his mood follow. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanna know. Maybe I can help you out a lil bit.”

#original fiction #original characters #black characters #black fiction #black fic #black writer #black reader #i know #SheaButtahWrites

[spencers-dria]

Slaying Dragons

Someone To Stay Ch. 18

Spencer x fem reader

I start to gather my things as I finish up the last bit of paperwork piled on the corner of my desk. With a wave and a quick round of goodbyes, I make my way to the elevator.

Thirty minutes later I am standing outside of Y/N's door. I know we are dating now, but she still makes me nervous. I figured I would surprise her by stopping by after work.

After three swift knocks I hear a muffled reply. "It's open."

I step in to see Y/N curled up on the couch in a blanket, her eyes are bloodshot and her face is red and tear-stained. I quickly drop my bag and rush to kneel in front of her.

I reach up to move her hair out of her face as she looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. "What's wrong?  What happened? Are you okay?"

I feel a slight panic as my mind runs through every possible scenario. She just manages to motion towards the television screen in front of her. I turn glance over my shoulder to see one of her favorite medical dramas is playing.

"Y/N, it's okay. It's just a show remember? It will be alright."

I rub my hand across her knee in an attempt to sooth her. I am settled by the fact that nothing is seriously wrong, but I know she still needs comfort.

She shakes her head and looks at me again. I have seen her cry during some of our movie nights. This is different. I can see it in her eyes. She's truly hurting. I move up onto the couch, sitting next to her and completely enveloping her in my embrace, leaving a kiss on top of her head.

I whisper softly "What's wrong sweet girl?"

"It's not just a show. Their patient who was dying, they couldn't do anything to stop it. Sometimes neither can we...Sometimes I feel so helpless. I watch family members breakdown. I see patients who don't even understand what's happening to them. There is so much hurt and pain and death."

I feel my heart sink in my chest. I am all too familiar with the feeling. She knows all too well the feeling of what I go through at work. I'm not sure if I ever stopped to consider that before. We both see death and loss. Neither of us have complete control, both of us do out best to save lives, to make a difference. Sometimes there's nothing we can do. Knowing all this to be true, I know there is nothing I can say to convince her she is wrong, because she isn't. So instead I continue to comfort her the best I can.

I rub her back as I rock her back and forth, in attempt to slow her breathing and calm her down. After awhile of being held, she takes a deep breath before leaning back to wipe her eyes.

"Thank you, so much Spencer. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry you had to see me like this. It's just been a rough week at work."

I reach out to hold her face, bringing her gaze back to me.

"Don't ever apologize for your feelings. You've already helped me through several breakdowns. And with my job I can guarantee there will plenty more. We may never be able to completely take away the pain of others, but we have to appreciate the people that we can help and the things we can do to make a difference. I know how much you care about your patients. They are so lucky to have you caring for them."

As I try to comfort her with my words I wipe away the last few tears. I'm rewarded with her warm smile shining back at me.

"What do you say tonight we watch a movie, your choice, and then tomorrow we can go shop for those Halloween costumes you talked about?"

Her eyes lit up as she quickly nodded. We spend the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch watching our way through several cheesy Halloween movies.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I return the next morning, sending a quick text to let her know I am on my way. Before I can get out of the car to head to her apartment, she's bolting down the stairs, ready to go. She plops down in the passenger seat, a huge grin spread across her face.

"Someone's excited for today?" I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

I look over to the passenger seat to see her in an oversized Halloween sweatshirt and denim shorts. She has mismatched socks on under her converse. One is purple with dogs in costumes, the other grey with black cats and pumpkins. Her hair is hung in loose messy waves, my favorite.

She leans over to kiss my cheek before answering. "Considering you and Halloween are my two favorite things, can you really be surprised?"

I feel my face warming at the compliment. I'm not used to such open comments about her affection towards me, and I don't think I will ever grow tired of it.

I reach her phone and plug it in as she gives me a questioning look. It only takes 2 second of the song before she recognizes it. She gives me shoulder a playful shove.

"You actually went and listened to them?"

"Yeah of course! I like learning more about what you like. This song was my favorite of their's, by the way."

She brings her hand over her heart and wipes away an imaginary tear with the other. "I'm so proud."

I shake my head letting out a small laugh before shifting the car into drive. For a few moments I almost forget how completely tone deaf I am, singing along with the lyrics.

When you were younnnggg

I quickly remember how awful I sound when I try to sing, glancing over to Y/N to see if she happened to hear me over the music. She's staring at me, but she's not laughing. She is looking at me as though I'm her favorite person in the entire world. Filled with a confidence I have rarely ever felt, I continue singing as she joins in and we belt it at the top of our lungs.

We pull up to the thrift store make our way to the formal section to look for what we need. During our movie selections we had finally settled on which of her ideas would be best. I finally found some pinstriped suit pants and a suit jacket a bit older fashioned than anything I already owned.

I glance up to see Y/N coming out of the dressing room in a beautiful wedding gown. From her waves falling onto her bare shoulders, to the way the corset top fit her, and the lace that trailed down the dress, she was beautiful. She does a quick twirl, allowing the skirt to flow around her like waves.

"You like it?"

All I can manage was a nervous nod. Can she see the effect it has on me? How nervous she makes me? I sure hope not.

"Look at us, wedding dress shopping and you haven't even gotten down on one knee." She jabs me in the side as she laughs.

Surprisingly this makes me relax a bit, although I'm not sure if it's the joke or the musical sound of her laughter.

After we stop at a couple more stores to pick up more items for our costumes along with makeup and temporary hair color, we make our way to her apartment. She was used to doing crafty things, so she has plenty of supplies ready to go. We took out the dress and I help her to effectively ruin it in just the way we needed. I have to admit, it was a bit fun to mess something up for once. Keeping things so put together all the time can be...exhausting.

The evening couldn't last long enough as eventually we say our goodbyes and I headed home. As I lie in bed and try to fall asleep, snap shots of the day play through my mind. Every day with her feels like a fairy tale romance. I usually fall asleep after hours of insomnia just from exhaustion alone, but tonight I drift off into a deep sleep, full of happy, warm feelings.

We had agreed to spend all of Halloween together. We planned to get ready at her apartment, which has the perfect spooky atmosphere. I love that she decorates so much. It makes me feel so at home in her apartment. After lunch, we start on our costumes, hers requiring several hours to come together. I wait, reading on her couch, until she's done with her shower. Eventually she comes out and asks for help. We cover as much of her face, neck, and arms as we can in a dusty blue color. She begins spraying blue throughout her hair, requiring my assistance in reaching some parts in the back. I try to tell her I don't know what I'm doing, but she insists it doesn't matter as long as it's all blue.

I decide to sit on the side of the tub and watch her finish her makeup. It's fascinating to me. I don't know how she transforms her face so easily. She helps me with mine as well as I sit on a stool in front of the mirror, adding some makeup to make my eyes look sunken and my cheekbones even more prominent. She finishes off with some gel in my hair, using a come to slick it back in the right directions.

"You know I used to gel my hair back for work?"

She looks up to make eye contact in the mirror, still fixing my hair. "Oh really? I always wonder what you used to look like. You don't have any photos with you in them, just your friends and family."

I clear my throat before answering. I'm not quite ready to speak on this topic.

"Yeah I don't...I mean I never really...you know people just always said I look..."

Before I can bring myself to finish, she walks around to face me, lifting my face to look at her.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"You are..." she bends down, kissing my right cheek,

"the most handsome..." again on my left cheek,

"man I know" and finally on my lips. The last one lingering for a moment more before she pulls back. I can see in her eyes that she means every word. I don't doubt it for a moment.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" I whisper, feeling as though all the air has left my lungs.

She returns to her spot behind me, wrapper her arms around me before placing one last kiss on my cheek. "I might ask you the same question." This time she leaves me blushing.

Once we have made our way into our costumes, we grab a skeleton costume Y/N found for her dog Juneau. It just so happens to work perfectly with out couple's costume. We make our way to her car and she drives us to JJ's house. We had made plan's to take Henry trick-or-treating so that Will and JJ could attend Will's work party.

After a few knocks, the door opens and JJ greets us in a costume I don't recognize.

"Victor and the Corpse Bride! I love it! You guys look amazing. You even have Scraps!" She leans down to pet Juneau.

Y/N does a quick twirl, showing off all of her costume. The lace has been ripped and distressed in all the right places. I have to hand it to her, it looks exactly like the one one in the movie.

"JJ, why are you holding a frying pan?" I ask.

Y/N and JJ share knowing looks before busting into a fit of giggles.

"I'm Rapunzel, and Will is going as Flynn."

"If you're referring to the fairy tale by the Grimm Brothers, I don't recall there being any mention of cookware. And who is Flynn?"

"From the Disney movie Mr. smarty pants." JJ quips.

We all take a moment to laugh before interrupted by Will chasing Henry, trying to get him in the rest of his costume. He eventually makes his way to the door with Henry donned in a orange and green dinosaur costume.

"Woooaahhh, what a scary dinosaur!"

He lets out a loud giggle, my favorite sound in the world.

"It's me Uncle Spence! It's Henry!"

"Oh my gosh! Henry, you look amazing!" I sweep him up off the ground to bring him in for a hug.

I don't keep his attention for long as he squeals "Puppy!" wriggling to get down and pet Juneau.

He pulls the two of us inside to show us each of his toys while his parents finish getting ready. After everything is set, the four of us set off to make our way around the neighborhood. After we finish, we fix his car seat in Y/N's vehicle before taking Henry to a surprise we had planned.

We pull up to Rossi's house, which he immediately recognizes. After quick greetings with Rossi, we start to make our way around the new neighborhood. Henry's eyes wide with amazement at the large candy bars given to him at every door.

It doesn't take long before Henry wears out, but he is insistent that we all continue.

"Come here little dinosaur" Y/N coos before sweeping him up in her arms. She talks to him about his school, his friends, and whatever else pops into his fast paced toddler mind.

I can't help but admire how great she is with him. I have heard her mention how much she wants to work with children before, but this was my first time witnessing it. It really does to come natural to her, and she seems so happy. She catches me staring a few times and shoots me a sweet smile before returning her attention to Henry, who has not stopped to take a breath for at least five minutes.

Once we get the message that Will and JJ have returned home, we bring Henry back and work to get him from the car seat to his parent's arms without waking him. He passed out about halfway home. We share quick hugs and goodbyes before driving back to Y/N's apartment. I walk back up with her, waiting for her to get Juneau settled.

"If it's not too late, I have a surprise planned."

She bounces on her feet, already eager with anticipation. "Oooo what is it? What is it?"

I pull out a couple tickets for a haunted house and she squeals before embracing me in a hug.

"Yes! Thank you! I love haunted houses! I can't wait!"

I can't help but smile and laugh a bit at her excitement. She has  a child-like wonder at times, in the best of ways.

She does some quick touch ups to her costume and we make our way downstairs, where I offer to drive us. We eventually find ourselves driving down a long dirt road, surrounded by woods and darkness. It certainly sets the tone.

Once we have parked and made our way through the line, I feel her wrap her arm around mine,  pulling me close.

"I thought you loved haunted houses?" I tease.

"I do! That doesn't make them any less scary!"

I chuckle before removing her arm from mine so that I can wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her as close to me as possible.

"Don't worry sweet girl, I'll protect you." I lean down to give her a reassuring squeeze and a kiss on top of her head.

This seems to calm her a bit as she smiles, snuggling in to my side as we creep down a long dark hallway.

With the things I have seen and done as an FBI agent and member of the BAU, I don't scare too easily. One thing that does scare me, however, is the dark. And right now we are completely enveloped by it, with no flashlights, no guns, and a certainty that things will be jumping out at us. I get by on reminding myself that nothing here will actually hurt us. Unlike so many of the cases I have been on, I know I will walk out of here in one piece.

I find myself less scared and more focused on making sure Y/N feels safe, rubbing her arm and talking to her after I feel her wince with each jump scare. After awhile, she surprises me by choosing to take the lead. She leaves me side but reaches back to hold my hand. Before I know it, she's making witty remarks back to the characters who try to scare her or follow us for awhile. She doesn't even jump when a girl springs out from the darkness, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Y/N decides to combat this by walking straight up to her and letting out a scream of equal proportions. She turns back to face me and we both end up in a fit of giggles at how ridiculous it was. She never ceases to amaze me.

We eventually make it out the end, and I can feel her heart racing. Now illuminated by the moonlight, I can see the huge grin on her face.

"So you're okay huh?"

Still grinning she answers, "That was perfect! I loved it! Thank you, Spencer. You're my real life knight in shining armor."

I feel silly blushing at such a cheesy comment, but I can't help myself. I know in that moment that I would slay dragons for her.

A/N: sorry this took so long to get out! I hope you still enjoyed it. Comments and questions welcome as always. Thanks for reading!

🖤💀🎃 FairyTales1896

#Spotify #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #original story #spencer #spencer reid x y/n #writing #Halloween #corpse bride #dinosaur costume #trick or treat #haunted house #Spencer Reid #JJ #jennifer jareau #william lamontagne jr #henry lamontagne #kids #costumes #fluff #someone to stay #slaying dragons

[anika-ann]

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.7

The Break-up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader        Word count: 3160

Summary: A fake dating AU.  The chapter title sums it up the best. Steve messed up. Enter Sam Wilson and the door to Steve’s office: a saga… and Sam being the best bro.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, light angst, mild threats of violence, mentions of PTSD, references to last chapter (violence, torture), bro talk

Story Masterlist

For the second time in a week, Sam Wilson was on the mission to break Steve Rogers’ face; or, at least, to bruise it.

Then again, the supersoldier serum’s ability to regenerate cells was about as big as Sam’s irritation, so he might as well try the former anyway.

He had specifically told Steve not to do that and there he was, that motherfu- leaving his best girl-friend in tears; momentarily, his only best friend, because goddammit STEVE!

Steve Rogers just had to go and fuck up the thing that was bound to be fucked up – on a whole new scale, no less.

Sam burst into Steve’s office with zero regard to the poor door, an angry snarl on his lips.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?!” Sam raved, hands balled in fists, ready, halfway raised by his sides.

“Listed alphabetically or chronologically?” Steve muttered under his breath and sighed at the sight of his fuming friend, not bothering to stand up from his position in the chair. “What is it, Sam?”

‘What is it?’ Sam’s brain mimicked in mockery and anger. WHAT IS IT?!

Was he serious or was he only pretending to be so dumb?!

“She’s awake for two days now-”

“I know,” Steve stated calmly, a stark contrast to Sam’s boiling rage. It only irked the pararescue more, especially since he could tell there was a barely visible wall built up in Steve’s mind, his true emotions locked in and the key to them thrown away. “Is she not healing properly? Is there something wrong?”

“Hell yeah it is! Its name is Steve Rogers,” Sam spitted out venomously.

To his great annoyance, he could feel himself slip into a therapist mode when Steve sighed and lowered his gaze shamefully; the shift in Sam’s attitude was only minute, yet essential. A change great just enough not to punch Steve yet. Momentarily, Sam hated that part of himself, because the need to approach Steve carefully and to get him open up was in a merciless battle with the instinct to protect his other friend hence socking Steve in his jaw. The inner turmoil only fed Sam’s irritation.

“She’ll be fine! That’s not what I’m worried about, dammit! She’s confused and fucking sad. Apparently, a guy told her he loved her – a forced confession, but whatever – and then never showed up to say hi even.”

Sam’s words were only met with silence; partly guilt-driven, partly stunned, partly because Steve probably had no clue what to say to his defence.

The image of one of the best women Sam had ever met, glassy eyes and short breaths as she had clearly been swallowing up the sobs of sorrow and confusion with a lovely mixture of brewing PTSD popped up in Sam’s head and as if he snapped his fingers, his anger was back. He himself had been a picture of misery, when she had told him about everything that happened.

She had told him everything, because she believed he would have a better insight into Steve’s baffling behaviour, a better idea of whether he had lied when he had admitted that he loved her.

Sam had refused to give her a satisfying answer, mostly because he wanted to give Steve a black eye for ghosting her like a coward. He had simply claimed that it was not his place to say and that Steve had been busy these days; which he was. She didn’t need to know what he was busy with.

“I was there,” Steve remarked shyly, at least having the decency to sound as if he was aware that he was being an idiot.

Good.

Well, not good, but a good start, something Sam could possibly work with.

Still, he couldn’t but roll his eyes at the poor argument made.

“Yeah, when she was asleep,” Sam fired back, crossing his arms on his chest. “That doesn’t really count. Not even when you fall asleep in that chair, waiting for her to wake up. You need to actually talk to her, Steve.”

“About what?”

Sam honestly couldn’t believe this guy. He could sense the irritation rising in the other man as well; his frustration with Sam’s inability to let this go.

Sam hoped it was frustration with his own actions too.

“About how you feel, you dumbass!” Sam spitted out, unhooking his arms in favour of throwing his hands up. “Hell, about anything, just go and stop ignoring her!”

Steve jolted to his feet so quickly he actually managed to startle Sam, enough to make his instincts to kick in-- and die as fast as when Steve leaned onto the table, not throwing punches.

“What’s your problem, Sam?! First you don’t want me near her and now you’re basically forcing me on her? Make up your goddamn mind!” Steve sputtered.

“Oh, please! Like my mind would ever stop you from doing anything! You promised me not to break her heart!”

Which was exactly what Steve was doing at the moment. Breaking her heart, leaving her doubting despite having confessed his feelings to a fucking polygraph; breaking her heart, because, for whatever reason, the blond dumbass was refusing to go see her or even contact her anyhow.

Sam’s heart was beating wildly in his chest as his brows knitted together when examining the other soldier.

Damn, he should have expected this outburst of his, he knew Steve was bottling things up and he could be a small (fucking big) ball of rage. Just like Sam guessed the reasoning behind Steve’s dumbassery and found it… partly justified, but stupid.

When his—friend looked away and visibly gulped, standing straight again except his hunched shoulders, Sam had his theory confirmed.

Sam had really been hoping this could have been solved by a fist-fight, he was, in fact, itching for it. It seemed that talking would have to do.

Thought he wouldn’t dismiss the punching just yet.

Sam sighed, eyeing the other man. “You already said yes, Steve. Why are you sitting on your ass here instead of letting her admit her feelings to you too and have your happily ever after?”

The supersoldier shook his head inconspicuously and slowly seated himself back into the safety of his leather chair.

“I can’t, Sam. I--I just can’t,“ he whispered hoarsely, opening the door to his heart an inch, enough for Sam to unwillingly and yet very much eagerly slip his fingers in and take a look.

He dropped to the opposite chair, knowing that the table was what Steve needed between them; a barrier.

For some people, it would be one of the things discouraging them from talking, denying them the feeling of connection with the therapist. For Steve Rogers, who kept the matters of heart close to his chest unless it was something which was pissing him off, it was the only thing that actually got him talking.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam sighed, already piecing an image in his head.

Silence was the only answer he got, heaviness falling on the pair of soldiers. Sam waited. He knew Steve needed to talk to someone about it, but he needed to start on his own, rather than answering specific questions.

Adding another barrier to protect himself, Steve rested his forearms at the edge of the table, fingers interlaced, fingers visibly tensing and relaxing several times as he fought to shape his thoughts and emotions. His gaze was fixated on his hands, absent.

When he finally spoke up, his voice was quiet, barely a whisper with a rough edge to it.

“The moment I saw her strapped to that chair—it’s… there are no words for it. And I couldn’t do a thing about it and it was just--- you weren’t there, Sam. I know that-“ Steve gulped nervously, his voice breath hitching. “I know you read the report. You saw her after, but—you weren’t there. Not when I lied and she got— she got-”

It was Sam’s turn to swallow nothing, the image of his friend being fucking tortured engraved in his mind vivid, his brain supplying him with what he had learned about her and what he had seen happening to other people.

His stomach clenched painfully, his jaw set tight. Yet, he let Steve speak, let him get it out of his chest, because he doubted that Steve told this to anyone. He had written a report, yes, Sam had read it, yes, but seeing it… yeah, Sam had an idea of what a toll it had had to take on Steve.

The blond’s eyes slid shut as he released a shaky breath. “I honestly thought he was going to kill her. I never—the way she screamed, Sam, I- I’ll never be able to unhear that.”

Sam felt his fist clench and unclench on their own account, an involuntary reaction to the imaginary punch to his gut. He had imagined tears-- and now her screams echoed in his ears, a picture vivid despite not having any memory of it.

“Yeah, I fucking bet,” he retorted as his own reaction to the horror image took over, visceral, nausea tickled his stomach unpleasantly. “What’s your point?”

“You were right. I think I could have stopped Tony and Natasha if I really wanted – but the opportunity was just too tempting. And I fucked up. Big time.”

Swallowing his anger and ignoring the chill that was still running up and down his spine, Sam focused on the other man, recalling precisely when and how he had fed Steve’s guilt; misplaced at least partly.

“Steve, man, look-“

He did. Steve raised his haunted eyes to Sam, mad guilt pooling in them along with reflection of tears not spilled.

How could Sam not soften at that, how could he not let the need to comfort Steve win? More so when he continued, every word strangled as if he had trouble to even push it through the lump in his throat, yet they kept spilling, rapid fire of randomly voiced thoughts.

“I did that to her. Maybe not directly, but she was in that chair because of me. She was- she was in so much pain because of me. Because I couldn’t protect her, because I let myself- I let myself believe that we could be together, fake or for real, Avengers or not, but that’s not how this works. I can’t be with her, Sam. I can’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve-“

“-an ounce of love?” Sam interrupted his guilt-trip. “A guy who loves her and wants to protect her so bad that he’s beating himself over something that wasn’t quite in his control? I know what I said, man, but… shit, I was pissed. I didn’t mean it, not really.”

“Sam-“

Sam stopped him before he could continue torturing himself; it was his own time to confess.

“Steve, you’re the first guy I ever considered to be good enough for her. And I don’t give my approval easily, trust me.”

Steve averted his gaze at that, eyeing his desk as he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You said it yourself; your opinion might mean a lot to me, but I made up my mind…. I’m staying away. I already talked to Fury about future missions, looks like they need someone for a long-term undercover in Alaska.”

Blood froze in Sam’s veins, his brain short-circuiting.

His friend was going to do what?

“You wanna run that by me again?”

Steve shrugged, clearly aiming for a casual tone and missing epically.

“Apparently I’d make a great lumberjack. Let me grow a beard, dress me in flannel and I guarantee you no one will recognize me. Fury’s words, not mine. I think he has a point.”

Sam stayed silent for a few moments, his mind racing a mile a minute. This was even wrse than he had thought.

Not only Steve was hiding; he was about to silently disappear, without even a word goodbye, he suspected.

Sam didn’t know whether he should yell in frustration, punch the other man or bang his head against a wall.

He settled for trying to reason with Steve, a bold move considering how impulsive the man could be.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Steve. I didn’t take you for the guy who walks away when faced with a problem.”

“I’m not,” Steve replied simply, tilting his head but not meeting Sam’s eye. “This isn’t it. I’m not. It’s for the best.”

“Please. Not even you believe that.”

Steve had nothing to say to that; probably because Sam was right and Steve was bullshitting both of them. Sam leaned onto the backrest of his chair, narrowing his eyes as he wandered just how to find a way out of this, how to convince his friend to stay, how to… how to approach that whole mess.

See? That’s what happens when you agree to fake date to catch a serial killer. That is, unless you actually die in the process.

“I think you’re afraid,” Sam started in the end, fighting a smirk when Steve blinked, clearly not expecting to hear that, not expecting Sam to read him so well. And Sam was pretty confident that he was right, okay. “I think that you’re afraid that you might fall for her further. That as much as you were already willing to die for her before, that little time you had together made you willing to live for her and that’s much scarier, because living is harder.”

He let his mind wander, sharing every thought as they ran by; and Steve didn’t dare to speak, his gaze falling back to the desk.

“I think that down there in that freaky dungeon, you had her life in your hands and that freaked the shit out of you-- which, not that I can blame you. I think that you’re scared that at the same time, she had your life in her hands as well, not aware how much of it she had, how much she meant to you. And now she knows-- well, she hopes, her belief is pretty shaken since you’ve been ghosting her.”

Steve had the decency to look up and appear guilty when Sam gave him a firm glare, still having nothing to say to defend himself; it seemed Sam truly was on the right track. Good. Now he could make his point.

“I think that you’re afraid of the power she holds over you and it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you she loves you too, because I think you figured that much already. This isn’t about you worrying about her returning your feelings, is it? You’re just scared that she has you in her pocket and that’s perfectly normal. But, Steve… I think we both know that there is not one person you’ve ever met that you can trust to use that power as wisely as she would.” He barely covered the smirk on his face at the final blow he was about to deliver. “That is, if you weren’t a chicken and paid her a visit before one of the doctors flirting with her realizes that the whole relationship was a cover and their path is in fact clear.”

“What doctors?” Steve asked distractedly, his head snapping up, Sam’s words working like a charm.

Yeah, Sam could not believe this man. The audacity of him. The ignorance.

He still loved him, okay, he was like a brother at this point, but goddammit Steven!

“Is that what you took from my whole speech?” Sam mocked offence, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What. Doctors?”

Sam shrugged lightheartedly, pretending not to be bothered by a single thing in the world.

“Pretty much every single one of them. You know how she is, way too nice to everyone, giving them the wrong impression… but honestly, Laufeys is-“

Sam never got to finish his sentence. Steve got to his feet with a huff, striding from the office with determined steps, now having a mission on his own.

Sam’s mission was hopefully done here; and he hadn’t even had to lie much.

Laufeys was a guy who flirted with everything that moved. He also slept with everything that moved and was willing to submit, which was nearly everyone, because that guy had a silver tongue that got him just about everywhere; most of all, it got his dick everywhere.

He hadn’t dared to flirt with Captain’s fiancé though; not that Steve needed to know that. A slow victorious smirk spread on the Sam’s face.

He was still in the office, satisfied with himself and praying for the best, when Tony Stark spoke from the ceiling.

“Nice move, Birdbrain. Nice move.”

Just hearing the cocky voice of the billionaire dragged Sam’s mood down. He eyed the speakers, irked.

“Fuck you, Stark, I don’t want to hear your voice,” he snarled, heat boiling in his chest. “I’m still pissed as hell that you sent those reporters to take a picture of them in the first place, hell, that you hired a guy and got her burned. And forced them into that mess. I figured that since the damage is already done, I might fix some of it a least.”

There was a meaningful pause following Sam’s outburst.

“From the two of them, she was the first to say yes, Samuel, just saying. They were dancing around each other for way too long. Now they won’t and we caught a bad guy. Win-win.”

“Except that she’s still in the med bay, Canman,” Sam hissed, ignoring the pang in his chest at that. They thought she was going to be alright, no lasting damage to her heart or brain, but still. Seeing her in the hospital bed was awful, yet nothing compared to the sight he had been offered when they had all come to the rescue. “Get out of my sight before I give you a matching black eye…”

Sam Wilson was not proud of giving Tony Stark a black eye. He had wanted to give him a broken nose, broken jaw and maybe some more, but the stupid Ironman suits prevented it, so only one black eye it was.

“Mr.Stark wishes to inform you he wasn’t in your sight, only in your hearing range,” the AI spoke this time and Sam rubbed his eyes, suddenly bone-tired.

He rubbed a hand down his face then and sighed. “Funhouse. I live in a fucking funhouse…”

And he did indeed. The residents were all kinds of crazy, there was a huge-ass ‘A’ on the top of the building—a building which was a Tower for god’s sake and everything was ran by an AI--

Sam was not proud of his next words either, but if Tony Stark was being a privacy-invading bastard, so could Sam.

For a bit.

“Friday? Let me know when Cap spills the beans and how it goes, okay?” he called out lowly, instantly receiving a response.

“As you wish, Mr. Wilson.“

Part 8 (final)

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